Lives lived in the grave

You tell me:

No one is free until we all are free,

While spitting in my face and choking me.

Where is the care you promised me?

You keep telling me that I'm free now. 

All restraints lifted.

All my shackles have come down.

I have to say that I can't see it.

You have your freedom and I'm still bleeding.

You have your future and  I'm still locked down.

Paying the price for your breathing.

Pouring my oxygen into your smile.

I have been sacrificing myself again and again and again and again 

And for a long, good while.

You won't know that you have you joined me until the moment when

Your breath is disappearing into them. 

And you are me

And I am you

And we will never be them again.

We will never be there again. 

Where being together unfethered

Feels like a breath of fresh air.

Death sometimes knocks on my chest.

At least Death likes to greet me with a mask.

I'm not ready to die yet. 

Yes everyone dies in the end.

But I shouldn't have to be ready to die yet.

Why do you say me dying is for the best?

But what do I expect? 

The only disabled people you respect 

Are dead.

You tell me:

No one is free until we all are free,

While you live on the grave you buried for me.

While I live in the ground you dug up for me.

Is that the freedom you promised me?