I used to know what it was like
to hang my head low
and see the stars at night
take me with them into the light.
But now what’s left of me
is ever so still and lost,
taken into the night
and starved to death of any fight.
This fight is not my own
and never was, though people
say I did to survive.
I did not fight
the will of men
breaking-in to
my light within.
For surely I would have died.
Oh but this is all a lie
and I never would have died,
for I was not there, nor they were there,
to lie by speaking a lie.
Doesn’t anyone see
Survival isn’t mine to own;
They chose whether I lived,
and they choose whether I die-
then or now or years to come.
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