Suffering


I sit here day by day,
Week by week.
Those weeks turn to months
Months into years
Yet I'm still here.
I tell myself to go,
But its hard to follow through
With dreams so big in such a small world.
Fighting for a taste of freedom
In a jail cell we call life.
They tell us when to wake up,
Eat, learn, and sleep. And then they ask us,
"What's wrong," but only want to hear the same answer.
"No, I good," "Nothing, I'm fine,"
"Just keep living in your perfect world while I suffer quietly."
How is it we are being given no choice
To be who we are without being judged?
Why? Why must I suffer?

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