7/8/2024
It’s not compassion
It’s neglect
Self-preservation
In the guise of selflessness
Doing what you must
For the betterment of all
But mostly yourself
You present as altruistic
But we both know that’s a lie
You are a self-ordained saint
At least in your own mind
While the rest of us
Peasants, sheep
Beg to be graced
By your divine touch
Where there is smoke
There is fire
And I’m burning alive
At the stake
As you toss your lit cigarette
At my bound feet
And casually walk away
Off to save another soul
While I suffocate
From your hazy indifference
You try to be everything
To everyone
But me
Foolish me
Thinking I am worthy
Of a single ounce
Of your attention
No, you let me suffer
In silence
While the rest of them
Sing your praises
I wonder how many others
Are out there
Like me
Wondering what it's like
To be wanted
Acknowledged
Cared for
Maybe then
I wouldn't feel so alone
But as I rot
In this damp, dark cell
I surrender to the fact
That I'll never know
Truly know
The truth
Behind your intentions