I’ll say it: I hate our president

All my life, people have written me off as

“different”

“possessed” and

“antisocial”

And while yes

I am different

I am not possessed

I am disabled

my rights are in a chokehold,

gasping for the air they once were able to breathe in deep.

the air that made them feel so free,

like a bird in the great open sky,

or a puppy full of sweet little dreams.

Whispers so cruel flood the news,

Filling many hearts with fear. 

Some listen to only what they want to hear. 

Their denial leaves a black and blue bruise. 

I've never been much of a fighter.

I take hits like glass takes baseballs

like fire takes to rain.

Glass breaks and fire goes out.

I've never been much of a fighter.

A retaliator, resister

"You want your rights?"

"Come and get it," said the snake.

It was wrapped around a tree

in the confines of his tail,

a paper labeled "YOUR RIGHTS."

I stared up at the snake,

I'm 13 years old

I have literally watched

States make it illegal

To get abortion

Most of the people

Making and signing

The laws

Are men

MEN

Last time I checked

the doors

are left open

for him

to walk through

and brightly lit

with all

he will ever need

when beside him

there is a girl

stumbling through

a dark hall

unable to find her way

In the shadows, rights once won,
Begin to fade like setting sun.
The banners raised, the voices loud,
Now muffled by a growing cloud.

In a world of screens that never fade, 
A voice is found, yet sometimes swayed. 
In every swipe, a new facade, 
A life lived fast, but still feels odd. 

I knew it was bad
when you didn’t even have to say it,
when I saw it in your eyes,
when I knew it in the way you folded your arms
and turned away when I spoke.

There’s this song,

Slipping Through My Fingers.

By ABBA. From Mamma Mia!

That's how I see it.

Our rights.

“I try to capture every minute.”

The erosion of  rights towards marginalized groups feels like a personal attack on the values of equality, fairness, and justice that have importance to me.