I can’t spend another afternoon dreaming for my chance to sit at the table;
to feast on the privileges men take for granted
while I’m left sweeping up the crumbs.
It’s true some aren’t even invited in the room,
forced to stare through the windows at the far away dreams.
Yet people tell me I should still be satisfied for being on the floor;
proud of what I’ve achieved.
I know I’m not as troubled as others outside and I know I have suffered less pain
at the hands of a system that profits off the backs of people they have slain.
But, as I work towards freedom of my body and my mind, I remember those I’ve left behind.
I don’t have to apologize for what I want and need
as long as I remember its not just about me.
Because I can’t stand another afternoon waiting for tomorrow,
when they’ll probably have wait another decade.
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