Tuesday, December 6, 2016

PLAYPEN OF PIGS by Crystal Price

PLAYPEN OF PIGS

They drug me raw...
While you lamed me...

No birdies...
Just black...

Spats of disapproval...
Limbs have no value here...

Teasing me with end's prospect...
Stuffing my listeners with wet oink...

Bleek for the hopeful...
Some asphalt, some sand...
Meek for the naive...
Not abuse, just men being men...

In the eyes of passerbys...
Fear dances a jig...
A hooved dedication...
In the playpen of pigs

©Crystal Cunha ©Crystal Price ©2015


Bio: 

Name: Crystal Price
Age: 34
Residence: Fresno, CA

I started writing poetry as a preteen living in the foster care system. Poetry was the oxygen that kept me from becoming an emotional vegetable. Poetry me & I it. Poetry is my life support, and my survival has, & always will depends on it.

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