our worlds at odds

I didn’t have time to cry
Your message came to me
After waking up late and tired

Your words:
I wish I could lick my thumb 
And smudge them right out of my mind
Perhaps then, I would feel fine

You left me feeling frightened 
I think about watching my words
But I ask myself, “Why?” 
Is it just to preserve how you view your world?

“Driven by hate”, you say
In my dreams, I find the perfect response to relay
Instead, I just have a handful of experiences
That helped make me this way

You think it goes beyond my eyes 
As if I don’t hear my words
And know that they cut sharply — like the edge of a blade
But what I really can’t grasp
Is why you don’t feel the same
And how it is possible for you to turn your head
Ignoring the forces that neglected to come to our aid
Did you know when I was born 
They spoonfed me hate
Shoved my face in a mirror 
And insisted there was nothing to appreciate
In my veins, they injected rage
It insidiously led me 
To be prone to discriminate
(against parts of myself) 
And ridding myself of that completely
I have found is quite the wait

So now,
I love the parts of myself
The ones that once made me feel shame 
And from the time that was wasted
Pain rises to the surface 
And so comes anger and blame

You hang up my passions 
And label them with certainty as hate
I try to look beyond your edges 
But it’s clear that you only hear my voice in one way
I wish I could ask you to peel the layers back
Take a look at how my thoughts functions
When they have yet to exit my brain
They aren’t one-dimensional 
Maybe someday your complacency will fade
And you’ll be moved to produce change 
Perhaps then you might see
That what you call anger
Is an emotion that has many names

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