CERTIFICATIFACATION OF DIS OWNERSHIP A heavy parchment, creased with the weight of what was never truly mine to claim or relinquish. Nor never had only of and only To be disapproved This seal, stamped not with gold, but with the dull grey of silence, the echo of arguments never heard. Depriving me slowly, a thief in the daylight, each small denial a chipped piece of the foundation. Teach thy ownith not do Stonewalling, a granite wall built brick by brick by hands I thought were As an individual rising higherwith abidece As the plot voids is Presented to no degree that matters in the world’s ledger, no diploma framed on a wall, just the internal acknowledgment. Congratulations whispered, a hollow sound in a vast room, on remarkable achievements of selflessness offered freely, only to have the giving itself questioned. to myself, I offer, this quiet reckoning, I am not a perfect no saint carved from marble, but the man above, the unseen guide, guides my path still, a flickering light in the dense fog. appreciate all, ( how can I) the shadows and the bright spots, the etched deep. I may be disabled in ways you see Through of silent limitations visible to be regulated but perhaps that very blindness of me keeps you from the genuity of me, the core that remains here in truth You say, I did it to myself, that the architect of my own sorrow was I, and I alone. Disposition burdens the soul, this sinking weight, for the exception, the moment I dared to dream differently, the step taken outside the prescribed line. Silently voiding, the clean slate I fought for, erased by whispers Harassment on no record, a ghost injury, a pain inflicted daily, by the voices of abuse abusing the very air I breathe, based on what you choose to believe. The background check returned spotless, a mirror reflecting a truth unseen by you, Numbers numbers numbers Ears are numb too an excellent reputation score, meticulously maintained through strain. You really earned this certificate, you who held the pen, who decided the narrative, who manipulated the script. Vox, the voice amplified, microphones turned up loud to drown out the quiet truth, and your manipulation, a dark art practiced skillfully. Blackmailing not with money, (shit you crazy) (Pay me) but with my own history, of only the wrongs or humanities reaction of tolerance to momentarily silence my patients coveting the peace I found, wasting hard work, the long nights, the dedication poured out like water on parched earth, only to watch it evaporate under the heat of excuses and of your voice of scrutiny. This certificate of ownership, this document of self-reclamation, is written in the ink of enduring signified ,another broken of (Givzah) Why we in poverty , could it not be couldn't You yelling , no know their, we here , tie. To tie to late may it beith to abidith within and may it become a myth of mine.

Certaintedforsurenot nor I disagree