Not Allowed to Cry on their railroad ride to suicide upon their torture wheel

Not Allowed to Cry

They put you through their soul grinder
Upon their torture wheel
Their railroad ride to suicide
Where all your hurts you feel

And I’m not allowed to cry

When they got you hanging on their hook
Before the door of death
Then they got a final twist
Even crying brings the threats

And I’m not allowed to cry

You’re not allowed to care about it
You’re not allowed to start
Wailing, harming, wanting death
To ease your terrified broken heart

And I’m not allowed to cry

For all abused & poor out there
Not allowed to express
Their deep despair, lack of hope & fear
Existing in this economic mess

And I’m not allowed to cry

Not allowed to speak the truth
Of evil crimes by skirts & ties
Who fill the airwaves & our brains
Consume us with their lies

And I’m not allowed to cry

Those in power screw us over
For blood they have a thirst
I didn’t hurt anybody
Who didn’t hurt me first

And I’m not allowed to cry

Not ever broken hearted
Not ever be set free
Grieving lost hopes & dreams
And the added hell of poverty

And I’m not allowed to cry

enD

Started writing this poem after I appeared in court on 18 November, was labelled insane, charged with more charges and let go until end of January.  Finished it today, might end up a rap or punk rock song.  It still haunts me sitting waiting for my bail forms to sign and Jason the court security guard who I usually get on with so well standing their insulting me and abusing me because I started to wail in distress at what had just happened.  Told me to stop because I was his only friend and I obviously didn’t have any – because I seldom have someone at court with me.   Seems people don’t understand I have family who have to work and I don’t want people I care about seeing my distress.

Threatened me with the police and to be put in the cells, which he knew I hated if I didn’t stop.   The pain in my chest/heart was so overwhelming I started self-harming and he again started threatening me with the cells.   I stopped that, put my head right down and started saying over and over quietly I wish I was dead, I wish I was dead, I wish I was dead.  He started abusing me again saying I was doing it on purpose to hurt him.  He was really mean, in a way I didn’t think he would ever do.  Such a big strong man can handle some of the roughest toughest angriest people in our community and he couldn’t handle my distress, my broken heart.

Cried myself to sleep last night grieving for my brother who I doubt I will ever see again, even decided not to go to my mother’s funeral because I couldn’t bare seeing my family.  I know my girls would be upset but if I can’t go I can’t go, there would be nowhere to stay.  Anyway that’s the things you think when you are permanently estranged and so devastated by what someone said who really just doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to.

My heart hurts writing this and the poem, but it is cathartic, better out than in.  I’m sure there are other people who feel like this and can’t express it like I have the talent for.  Who would have known I would be a prolific political poet when I was getting expelled from Westland High School because my English teacher and I didn’t get on.

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *