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the story of the poor man (written Jan 2011)

(note: have not brought myself to finish it, don’t know if i like it, but it is pulling on me, so i am posting it)

in the end,
i am still here
waiting while in silence
in the end,
i have really gone nowhere
until the end
i will be here
for you to see me as i am
and in the end
you’ll never see me just the same
until the end
i am the story of the poor man:

you remain in denial
as if the knowledge of the life i live
is more painful than my living it
and even as you close your ears
and close your eyes
and close your heart
you open your mouth to tell the world that i’m okay
that it’s my fault
that i can do more if only i tried harder
you tell me what i am missing
and what i need
and what would help me
then you pet me on my head
and you walk away with your head held high
as if you have done something
spectacular
for the child
or better yet,
the dog
that you just treated me like
probably thinking to yourself
“if i give him a bone, he will always expect to be given a bone,
and he will never learn his lesson”
pondering my plight
and leaving me behind to scrub away the
residue from the disdain
that is left on my face from your staring eyes
i rip the sign off of my chest
that you used to label me a beggar
…and i didn’t even ask you for anything
you call me lazy
and out of touch
you call me sad
and pitiful
you think that you can identify
my problem
when you cannot even identify with me
i keep closed lips
while i hear someone else tell me where i came from
who i can be and what i can do
and it is all just enough
for me to not be your concern
but never enough for me to be independent of you
like all can ever expect to have is mediocrity
so much opinion
so much correction
so much “care”
and you don’t even know my name

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