So brutally hurt inside
That the only way
He feels anything is
When he vanquishes
A foe, real or
Imagined,
Domination trying to
Stand in for love.
He’ll tell you he’s
Just fine,
Strong,
But even those who
Cover for him know
He’s not.
Change was the
Single most frightening
Thing to him.
He had always been
This way and didn’t
Want to modify it.
He was utterly
Miserable and
Desperately unfulfilled.
He’d hang on
Just a little longer,
Until it was all over.
He throws his entire
History, and that of
People like him, into
The abyss because
His compulsion to please his
Oppressors is stronger
Than his ability to
Fight for decency.
Late at night,
When it’s too quiet to
Ignore his misgivings,
Unpleasant thoughts
Permeating his spirit,
He fights back
Tears of rage,
Permanently suppressed.
Furthering the aims
Of persecutors who could
Not care less for him,
Or anyone vaguely
Resembling him,
To be discarded like
Rubbish when he’s
No longer useful.
Up to this moment,
He had refused to
Believe that
His friend was really
Uttering the words
Coming out of his mouth,
That someone could
Believe what this
Person whom he had known
For so long holds dear,
That a human being could
Be so consumed with fear
And confusion that he
Would utter such filth,
The realization of
Severe miscalculation,
No longer knowing
Someone formerly close.
A former carny pontificates
At great length about freedom
When what he really promotes is
Abject selfishness driven by
Perpetually flashing images of
What it was like to scrap
For a living years ago,
People stepping on him,
Taking advantage of him,
Looking down on him,
A harsh life of insecurity and
Debasement coloring his every
Waking moment and assuring him
That it’s okay to punish
Everyone else so that he
Doesn’t end up where he began.
In a beautiful mansion with
A grand staircase,
Crystal chandeliers,
Sumptuous furnishings,
Expensive art works,
There is a small room
Hidden by a panel,
Off a bedroom,
Lockable from the inside,
Where he can hide
When they come to
Take away what he
Takes from them.
My knotted insides signal a
Debilitating inability to stand up
And let my voice be heard,
To announce my value.
Stop making waves,
Follow the rules.
Nonsense
Rubbed into my brain by
People desperately trying to
Quell entrenched feelings of
Helplessness, unimportance.
Imperious bluster annihilating
Dissidence and love.
A stupefying world of
Tepid vanilla,
Drones marching in
Unison to the call of
Conformity, each one
The same as the last,
Quick-drying cement
Encasing creativity,
Voices muffled,
Flowers trampled.
Though she would never admit it,
She didn’t care much for
Herself and for so long
Had been told she didn’t matter
That she gave her life
Over to something,
Someone else who
Would tell her what to do,
When to do it,
How to do it,
No questions, no comments,
Complete conformity.
Thought traded for comfort.
Mind and will atrophying.
