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This Hand and More

by Michael Butorovich about a month ago in slam poetry

A Poem


Sometimes it feels

Useless to put my

Blood on the canvas

For the crowd to

Examine when they

Don't even know what

They're looking at.

It's alright as long

As there are a couple

Eyes who see the layers

And the sides.

What keeps me pushing

Upright is the small

Chance and a few good

Swings left.

Most of this is for

Myself and parts

For my peoples in

The gutters, for

The anxious souls

In corners,

For workers,

Pornhub amateurs,

Left field creators,

Lonely masturbators,

Those who sacrifice

Their comfort,

Deep thinkers,

Loved ones and

Lovers, past,

Present, future.

Some forget this

Is more than literature

But this hand hasn't.

slam poetry
Michael Butorovich
Michael Butorovich
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