I am crucified for my religion,

I am crucified for my skin color,

I am crucified for my economic status,

I am crucified for my beliefs,

My body and soul are condemned,

with atrocious strives

They’re preaching falsehoods, a disguised truth

Words of lies and deceits, for their own indulgence

But I am deaf of hearing, the poisons they spray

So, I am hunted and killed, for not looking their way

I am crucified for my free mind,

I am crucified for my thoughts,

I am forced to exile, to places not home,

A country man, without a country,

I am so terrified, each time the winds roam

I run, far away from the monsters,

but still nowhere to hide,

For my new home is the same,

for humans still live inside

If every where I lived,

my being is not suited, or posed a threat,

I would rather be exiled or crucified,

than being engulfed,

with the fire of bigotry or hate

It’s a thing without mass, but it moves.

It is fleeting and fickle and at times nonexistent.

It can change on a dime into something so different.

It often escorts strife and strain and can come from a torrential out pour of pain.

Without it, I am stifled and crippled and tame.

But When life is rosy, and I have not a care,

it is nowhere.

But when I’m starving and down, it is always around.

Don’t be comfortable!

Don’t sit idly by!

Find your struggle and motivation will be right by your side.

@demcmurphy

If I cannot communicate with words known to men,

Then I find myself retiring to the safety of my pen.

Poetry speaks with a voice all its own,

And declares to the world that it’s here to be known.

A phrase or two, I can write just a thought,

And still convey all the battles I’ve fought.

I wish to share with the people I know,

My hopes and wishes for a better tomorrow.

Maybe, just maybe, our world will change,

And take with it the pain of older days.

@demcmurphy