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Intangible Objects


First you say I am more
To go through life with the mind set that I am an equal
And if anyone says otherwise
This is an act of bullying
But I have grown, now able to speak my mind
And i am told I cannot
Why?
You say I am less
You say you are up here
And that I am down here, where ever that is
When you say these things I work so hard to hold back the tears of pain, of anger
But, I cannot
Perhaps I am weak
Or perhaps I am simply human
But i know i cry due to exasperation
But you think otherwise, don’t you?
You say I cry because I am a child, immature
Children cry,
Adults don’t, right?

You claim I am down here, where ever that is
Meaning my words are not as meaningful, as worthy as yours
But who are you to say this?
Who are you to say I am less
And even though you don’t say it, you mean it
You think it
After hearing your words, I flee
Where else other than my room
My safeplace
Wanting to cry a river of tears
Wanting to throw my feelings away
Because all they do is cause hurt
But I cannot
I cannot throw feelings away
As though they are tangible
As though I can touch them
And because all these things are true
They can still touch me…


Not like a falling feather, swift, gentle, and smooth
They touch me, stab me, like a knife
Like knives,
Like an army of swords…
And not all at once
A constant stab
Each more painful
Each longer
Because although feelings are not tangible
The pain is equal to that of an army of swords
Meaning it is strong
Meaning it is dangerous
And not to be messed with
Or manipulated
And not to be portrayed through words
Such as “you are less”
Or unworthy
Because you are not up here
And I am not down here, where ever that is

We are here
Living equal
With intangible objects in our grasp
Able to cause the same pain of an army of swords
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