Each morning, I wait
Behind my two iron gates,
Like a caged-up bird.
When I step outside
The sun rays remind me that
My skin’s a template.
Locking up I think
How fences seem offensive,
Almost violent.
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Each morning, I wait
Behind my two iron gates,
Like a caged-up bird.
When I step outside
The sun rays remind me that
My skin’s a template.
Locking up I think
How fences seem offensive,
Almost violent.
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