Punished for being Me

Early morning wakes me with tears...

The chatter continues. I hear their voices from the distance.

Their concerns are not for me. Their compassion wanes.

They wake me frequently with their thoughts and words. I see the trees that surround them and ask for help.

The trees smile but can do nothing, for their chatter drowns their plea.

The one thing we are told to be. I am punished for being me.

No matter how kind I can be, I am punished for being me.

By: Leandra Witchwood
First published 11-5-08