I'm a trumpet,
without a voice.
Sitting here,
My wings dead,
Voice shrunk,
Thoughts at siege,
And heart ablaze.
Baked by the sun,
Damned by prejudices.
Containing my simmering ire,
Here I sit cold and calm.
With the stagnant
Tides of time,
I'm walking alone,
To find an end.
I'm a trumpet
Without a voice,
What's spoken in noise.