Sometimes I find myself weeping for no apparent reason
I try not to verbalize my sense of loss and sorrow
for it does no one any good at all least of all
myself; I want so badly to think of others
first but I find myself not where I want
to be at this stage of my life
I long for supreme silence
and a lack of strife
as does my body
which has
to protest
this stressful
hectic pace we deign
to call a way of life in this
mad house of a land which
lives for change and where people
are plugged in all day long to electronic
devices with their minds elsewhere not here
they call it freedom to choose but in the end they
all conform and those of us who don’t fit in are condemned
to silence and painted smiles and superficial platitudes and…
who does fit in exactly, I hear the loud rap music from the passing
low riders, I see masses of tattoos and body piercing, I see disdain
for history and tradition and a phone that never rings and relatives who
do not remember I exist nor I them, what kind of life is this anyone?

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