Etched into my being

Desire to express lagging
Is it because I feel out of control?
Or that I keep hearing
My mother's voice in my head
Saying poems should rhyme
And shouldn't carry socially
Unacceptable residue of depression

Come now, I felt so free
I felt something release
When I wrote about that street
You will kill not only my writing
But my soul in the process
But you can't unspool the repressive coil
That has you captive so far

I just want to scream out
Be heard
Sing into the void
Put tinsel up in hard to reach places

Transform, catapult, recover, heal

With the nagging sense of urgency
Of a landmine on the radar
Clasped within my curled fingers
The embodiment of agency