Pathetic

My screams are frozen

My dreams are broken

I am a part of that herd

Where my voice is unheard

I am the neglected one 

Pangs of my trauma fall deaf on rich ears

I have been muted

Aware of attempts to keep me deleted

I mix mortars to make skyscrapers 

But when I ring the bell of your entrance

Which I carved into a shape

You shut the door on me

And never let me in

I am the labourer, worker and proletarian who stand everyday on a pedestal

Where opulence comes to procure 

After much haggling, she settles a score

To choke my right and roar

Makes me work in heat and cold

To stifle my voice and scold