Oh, to cherish such sweet joys as love is a privilege I cannot yet pursue.

Through years of torment punished on unjustly onto generations before me, my elders faced a thorough beating.

And through times of uncertain wandering in a land not yet known to me, I call upon anyone’s deaf ears for guidance.

I travel alone, dancing on others’ porcelain glass, praying for the uncertain day I may one day fix my own meal off of my own fine china.

I kneel down to blind eyes and pray that my pounding fists my be noticed by those above me, though it is a lost cause, for they refuse to lift me until I utter my repentance.

I stare at their eyes, squeezed shut by their being uninformed, however we are all of the knowledge that their ignorance is neither their, or my, bliss.

I dare to hope that they do and always have had indeed the ability to open their eyes and remove the plugs in their ears to know

That I, the ones who stand beside me, the ones who will come after me, and the poorly paid souls who forged our pathway,

May all hold hands with others of which are unique from our being.

However, until that day shows its existence, with raw fingers and desperate voice I scream my plea that in hope I may exist without punishment

But as of now, thus with a kiss, I die.