Make me a soldier

Cut me down and build me

Rape me and pilage me

Shock you with my dignity.

Hold me against a wall

Crush me with your logic

A viewpoint so toxic

A hand that chokes: you’re not sick.

No, you’re not sick

You’re like me

You just lack


Carry your cross above your head

They want me dead,

If I won’t get in bed

And empty all my empathy.

No more to give

A life of pain,

Without suffering

Is worth the acceptance.

Benign tumors inside my tummy

I find your sadistic sadness funny

Be careful what you take from me

It’s not the last you’ll hear from me.

Dig in — my truth’s your destiny.



Author: Joanna Fanuko

"Hold on to the present; let go of the past; reach your hand out to the future." Join me on my journey through mental health and wellness. PUNKTUATED.blog features my original poetry and deep thoughts. Thanks for following and reading!

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