Something To Stand Up For
I believed I belonged on the ground.
That I shouldn't make a sound.
But too many people have tripped over me because they couldn't see me.
So I believe now is the time to get up.
Reach out my arm;
And do the best I can to help them up.
Because no matter where we are;
The ground.
Our feet.
It's still the same place.
Where the weather effects us all.
But apparently,
I'm just a dog that needs to stop bitching
because apparently when I start barking at trouble;
It just isn't your problem.
But any problem anywhere is a problem everywhere.
Just the fact that I want to help is something.
Who I am doesn't change the positive things I want to do.
What I have done.
Just because I don't fit into the ideas of gender or love
that was forced to be part of your foundation
doesn't mean I'm not worth something.
Not that that matters when I want to save someone who I know
is hungry,
crying,
cutting,
tired,
cold,
dying,
but if I just touch them you'll get mad.
You'll act kind the first time.
To appear like we're normal
Then say I shouldn't be with someone who is lower than us
because we just don't have the time or money for them.
When really,
you're already in too much debt for that to matter anymore.
And your debts aren't mine,
so get out of your pantomime.
Off the stage and stop acting.
Be the actor and explain to the audience what the hell that just was.
Explain how selfish is someone wanting to
empty their half full glass
to make someone else's full.
I only get mad at you because you never let anyone drink from you.
You let them suffer;
and you laugh.
Sometimes I think your glass is just full of poison.
The audacity of your sadism
makes me want to hide on the ground again
just so I won't have to experience it.
Yet you still run spiked boots over my back
then just tell me that you were too tired to see me.
You're tired?
From 6:00 AM to sometimes 2:00 AM
I'm working and analyzing ways to figure out
how to clear the world of bodies on the ground
and onto beds.
So they can finally get a goods night's sleep
without having to worry about someone skinning them
for being who they are.
With that and having to limit myself around you
and the others who refuse to comprehend
what I send
to their heads.
Clear letters with evidence and analysis.
The reply I get back in the mail in an envelope and paper that looks clean,
but is dirtied with erroneous opinions with no proof or explanation.
Just a bullshitted appearance of perfect.
When you say I've changed,
I say, "Hell yeah."
But I shouldn't be chastised for changing my mind.
Because I look forward and behind.
I do a three-sixty view on everything I do
and use an eagle to see a bird's eye view.
That's the only way I can ensure that what's around me is really true.
That it doesn't have a lie walking around the corner with a knife,
ready to stab me when I'm busy doing focusing on another problem.
Getting on with my life.
Lives are malleable,
able to change shape with the weather.
However,
if you keep still,
you'll just drip into a puddle of lost potential.
That doesn't mean you can't reshape yourself.
It's just going to take some time.
I know that could be a false hope.
That you could change into something new,
but it won't stop me.
It will make me hold a grudge.
Over being called selfish,
rude,
different.
Illogical.
But I hold the hopeful belief that we can all stand up
and shape ourselves into something better.
So I want to let you know,
that I'm here to help.
I believe that's something to get up for.
Something that makes me just a little worth it.
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: