A Workless Days Redundancy
Hate doesn’t look like a monster —
it looks familiar.
People like me don’t need people.
I’m the person people want.
We point at the evil ones —
politicians, criminals,
anyone who hurts without reason.
They stare back believing
they’ve done nothing wrong.
Some know they’re cruel,
most just call it purpose.
Take religion:
eighteen thousand gods
worshiped on this planet —
more than the population
of a small town.
I’m an atheist,
judged for believing
in one less god than they do.
Everyone wants to be right.
It annoys me knowing
I’m not evil —
I’m perfect.
That’s why I don’t like people.
I’m one of them,
but I choose not to harm.
The dumb call that weakness.
I don’t fight,
don’t argue —
just smile when I’m bored,
nod when I’m done,
look for an easy way to leave.
And everybody walks away happy,
the pretty girl unsure
who she loves,
the man unsure
who he even is.
Meanwhile I stand aside,
quietly watching —
because the happiest people
are often the ones
who never think too hard,
the dumbest,
the vile,
the ones who never look too deep.
xo
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