Bad Choice

I have no fixed preferences,/as the powerless take interest/in shaping the course of each day./But those who ignore me/ seek refuge in fading,/they fade fast on this snowbound island./Stripped of robes, patterned with flowers,/in grace that was gutted by knives./As I’m a mere pawn on their islands /I get stifled without benefit/of eyesight or the wound on my palms./But with the eyes and ears,/you claim to possess,/the voice in the verse remains./For seekers hide among you, /cripples in shame, /who rise for the melt of the snow./Like, when you recite, it’s the pitch and the holler, /echo on dim distant walls./The words themselves,surge far ahead,/they shift their weight,/bend in shivers,/to witness a shimmering number./I confess to a need, for you to see me,/embattled, by salvoes of sound./Not crying out, to force you/to crush all your wishes/uncertain about others marooned.

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