Spare me your vitriolic
contempt, I need not hear
the words you vomit like
a bird feeding its kin.
I can feel as I walk past,
The daggers of your eyes,
Stabbing into my flesh,
You need not say anything.
As I walk in,
Why do you
feel the need
to have an
opinion of me?
What calamity have I brought
upon your life to make you
feel the need to hate me?
Although you do not call it hate,
You love everyone, that’s right,
It’s simply about liberty, you
are a goodly person of faith,
A good Samaritan, you love me.
Just as you say that I should not
exist, that everything I am is
fraught with uncleanliness, and that
it’s all lies I have been force-fed.
You love me, and you know
I’m not truly like this.
That’s why when you impersonally
say that all of my kind are sin,
You don’t hate any of us, just the
whole putrid impersonal Us.
This other without a face, quivering
mass of maggots and sin, a legion of
mannequin bodies without features
for you to hate without empathy.
But I refuse to see you as a similar
mass of hatred, and hate the likes of
you as you have hated me– and no matter
what you call it, I will say it is hate.
Good Samaritans, goodly people of faith,
As you claim to be, are not a faceless
legion, each and every single one of them
is people I refuse to hate, and beyond that,
You are not one of them.