poetry

Dissent

Sickles, spades, stones, sticks!
I cry dissent; they hear hatred.
I bleed nauseously and ooze panic,
they rub me with pellets and bullets,
to close my wound, they welt my skin.

Sickles, spades, stones, sticks!
I paint dissent; they see hatred.
I eat grief and breathe pain,
they feed me laws and rules,
to fill my stomach, they keep me hungry.

Sickles, spades, stones sticks!
I write dissent, they read hatred.
I hear mumbles and whispers of despair,
they sing me fire and pepper gas lullabies,
to tune my ear, they pierce my drums.

Sickles, spades, stones, sticks!

Pic by Paul Becker by CC2

First published in Inverse Journal

https://www.inversejournal.com/2020/04/06/i-write-dissent-they-read-hatred-by-bupinder-singh/

i need suggestions.

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