Undiagnosed

Sarah Velázquez (U.S.)

I was undiagnosed,
The working class are ghosts.
In the eyes of the system,
that we are dismissed from.
To roam in the streets,
Observed by elites.
Nothing left to be said.
I am the wandering carcass,
that rose from the dead.
‘Till someone asked me,
“What do you need?”
Just as I was fixing what was left,
of me.