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You say that I'm ugly.
You say that I'm strange.
I've swallowed every word.
Each searing drop of pain
Life has showed the facts
Down my constricted throat
Life, you can force-feed me
On anguish till I choke.
So I cry cause life's unfair?
Sorry, bitch, that's tough.
I am not worth the joys of earth
I am not meant for love.

God is Good, they say.
I'm not so sure.
I think God may be a mad scientist
in a white lab coat
experimenting on cages of people.
Maybe He laughs when we run around
screaming and screaming.
Maybe He takes notes on us under little headings:
"control group"
"test group"
as He watches us weep silently in corners
gnawing on our fingers.
or maybe He's asleep in His bedroom upstairs
underneath His silken canopy,
while we howl in anguish down in the basement
rotting in our rusty cages
completely forgotten by God the Mad scientist.

We have no idea of another's suffering.
I judge you, you judge me; we look askance
at hair or clothes or skin or smiles or the lack of smiles.
I think you laugh too loudly and I hate your taste in music.
You think I talk too much and you hate the boots I wear.
And all the while inside we weep and weep and weep.
We peek out, terrified, on a world that doesn't know us,
and long for someone to see how lovable we are.
We pass each other by, faces careful masks of concern.
Your anguish cries to mine; my heart aches just like yours.

- Elizabeth Kim


Lihtsalt sest vana märkmik sattus mulle taas kätte.

:)