I’m feeling the exile once again
But it somehow stings a little less this time
Cos the more I try to integrate into it
The more I’m left feeling locked outside the library
Is it worst to be exiled from the 2 point 5 children life,
In a thinly veiled attempt to curb divergent mind numbers?
Or is it perhaps worse to the be locked in
In a social model curated without your people’s input?
Can’t help but wonder when comparing
The epilogues of those recently let in the door
Covering every pour and hole
She’s suffocating from the droll
Of spectre’s hanging down her neck in idle times
Every breath, word and call, twisted and poked
Reminded of the needlessly gendered social hierarchy
Calculated, purposeful, negging call of the crows
An ecosystem made invincible, impenetrable
Perhaps it is worse to be locked in….
Worse to be locked with their grip on your arms
Forcing you to choke the life out of your love
Cos that’s the mark of a Mars in charge
Even worse when you look down
And you see who’s holding your arms, orchestrating the choke
“It’s what the Mars kind should do” she says
Every breath, word and call, twisted and poked
Reminded of the needlessly gendered social hierarchy
Perhaps it is worse to be locked in
Where your identity is out of your control
Sebastian Noël
Domestic Poetry 