It hurts me in small ways
Continuing on the “Art Month” Theme, I include here a Prose Poem I wrote a while back. The “You” I am addressing is that entity called “Life”
You don’t know what I hear
when you tell me things.
I want you uncensored, and yet…
there are ways I am not like you.
And in those ways that you are—
I imagine myself.
It’s not in my character;
you don’t mean it to be this way;
it is I who am not in synch.
I’ve always felt queer and out of place,
even within the out-of-place culture.
I just go along as best I can
without wanting to conform.
It has brought me peace
I am not worldly like you.
You say as I am out there
with my trip firmly placed
like to have chosen
from among those on offer;
but they never were; not to me.
My way was not to sample, only taste.
To know that I don’t fit this world of yours
Hurts Me in Small Ways.