Their Thoughts


Out of control

They cascade 

down this dark canvas



against the depths of despair

And lurk

Lurk behind the closing door

no rhyme or reason

can justify their

hat- red 

for race

for gender

for sexuality…


of being

For they are the prism

Stuck behind the kaleidoscope of their own colourless thoughts

The cage

They refuse to open 

To allow invitation

into the land of freedom of expression

for they keep schtum 

Afraid to run

To free- dom

Fear to be anything but ‘normal’
Relay the hate with speech

The future generations’ realisation 


is needed to not be

oppressed and overturned with overtones of


For all the things that they could be

that they should be 

That they would- have- been. 

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