I am a go-getter, an achiever

a dream maker

but still I am denied.

I have been

silenced with a mouth full of gravel

piercing my tongue

drawing coppery blood from deep within me.

Still I speak.

A dark shroud was pulled over my eyes

denying me

the privilege to stare.

Still I look.

My hands have been bound,

with course, thick rope

biting into the tender flesh of my wrists.

Still I walk.

Once the giddy chirps of the birds

were taken from me,

instead replaced with hushed whispers

from the cracked lips of doubt.

Still I listen.

When I thought I couldn’t bear anymore pain,

finding solace

in the green smell of the pine trees

denial took that too.

He pinched my nose with vigor

and drew tears from my eyes.

Still I smell.

So, you see, dear reader

I do not like to be denied.