Something to say

Like shattered porcelain on a red dirt path.
This tattered forcefulness writhes in a lost past.
Willfulness is uselessness as we drown
Usefulness is willnessless as we step down
How much more can we mould.
Forced rushed law can’t hold.
It’s one wish that turns to many.
I wish to grow old.
Have children be bold.
Instead I am sold.
To the highest bidder.
The one in the glass tower,
Calling me a sinner.

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