Below is the poem entitled Thanksgiving Day which was written by poet
Wolfe. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Getting up from the table, thanksgiving day,
I realized that I will never be happy.
There is a stare, a stare if you dare,
For the changing of my body, I don’t care if you stare
Because you don’t know what’s going on inside.
I am nothing but a thread in the carpet,
A stain on the wall that you forgot to wash.
I am nothing but a crumb on your plate
Left behind for the dishwasher
Or the hunger of a dog, after a game of fetch.
i am a cushion on your chair,
you don’t even realize it’s there.
I am the pixel on your tv, computer, cell phone.
Missing one, doesn’t require replacement or tears
Missing all requires all, and that’s all I got.
I will not become like them!
I will not abstain!
I will permit the raping of my soul,
I will permit the crushing of my brain
I will undo the good training
And turn it into fears.
I will not undo the evil stares of all those who pretend to care
I will not end up caring for my incomplete indignity.
I wish I could be MORE mean, but I can’t seem to fight it!
Gentleness, as if it could, somehow, contains a greater power in it than force
And gentleness, unfortunately, comes naturally to me.
I don’t know what it means to be happy,
I’ve never been happy. Why can’t anyone tell!
Because I am also an unrecruited actress, one whom the theater never caught,
Thankfully, those frauds! I Act out the play, if it’s ok,
I play with words and social skills, as if I had any.
I’d play with friends if I had any. There is a healing for the sick