poetry by j matthew waters

packing bags under moon and stars

artificial platform lifted up high
well lit by natural lights
so-called misfits down below
roaming incognito
drifting from stage to stage
seeking ways to remain unseen

they are called to act alone
though struggle to separate
themselves from the crowd
conscious of differences
whether it be in language
or religion or color of their plight

misunderstood by the masses
but certainly not complicated
they are the last to leave
after the lights have faded
belongings wrapped inside bandanas
tied to ends of bindlesticks

august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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