I felt like a clay pot

once from the earth

Born with spirit, soul cropped

The owners; my guardians, held me

They allowed me to be used

for my true purposes,

not as a pot but a holder of life;

Extraordinary.

Later, others wanted me to be a pot for use

To look and act like other pots 

Or my uniqueness challenged their sameness 

So I became like them, soul lost.

Read and leave comments (1)