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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #1140534
How do we smile in a world like this?
I will smile
at your brutality
As you rip my shirt, spit in my face, and throw me around like meaningless shit to prove your masculinity.
We are all impressed by your shades and Infinity and your boasted stories where you hurt a girl intimately.

And I will smile
at your irrepressible uncontrollable selfish soul
As you beat my mom, kick her, punch her, buy her flowers, and say how much you love her the next day.
We don’t believe you. So go and rot in a hole until you turn pale and hairy as Scruff Migruff burning away.

And I will smile
at your narcissism
As you spread your diseases, corrupt our children, rape our women and drink until you piss yourself.
We will speak in the seats of purgatory. But there is little worse than the hell you already live in.

And I will smile
at your blue suit and backwards rationality
As you exploit poor countries and privatize food and water, stealing resources in the name of “business.”
We will watch as the gold walls crumble under Olympia. And your high horse is eaten by the poor.

And I will smile
at your greed
As you sing of your gold and cars and forget your roots and people who starve till their stomachs swell.
We will pray for you and wait for that fuse to light so we can unlock the prisons and open every cell.

And I will smile
at your genocide
As you poison our water, mutate our children, sell us death in pretty packages while buying justice.
We will wait for the earth to scream and her wrath to bury you in crashing quakes, lavas and hypercanes.

Even in my death
I will continue to smile
Because you hate yourself as much as you hate the world.
Because you are the living dead and hell harbors you in this life and in the next when you become that which you hurt and every rationality is broken down into the raw reality that you are responsible and your choices create you.

And I will continue to smile because you will never break me. Because never will I become,
Never, even at the barrel of a gun, blade of a knife, the bottom of a thousand bottles of rum, even after being tricked, lied to, used like an 18 year old child, trained in your paranoid, self-fulfilling language of fear,

will I become you.

And so I smile.
© Copyright 2006 Silence (crazyjbyrd at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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