A Lowly Thing Like You Poem by Delilah Miller

'How many will say, 'forgive, ' and find a sort of absolution in the sound to hate a little longer! '
-Alfred Tennyson

The edge still leans out under my feet,
quietly and politely,
as if is an opened door or pulled out chair.
I am the one shouting
because it is forever, ever unfair.
You're a destroyer,
eating up the innocence you touch.
They're just sorry and beat,
too weary to tell their story.
You wrote them to be silently smiling,
a judge you work like a lawyer.
The only vote is 'Yes.'

So a book is left unopened.
The quiet persists.
Your inky black charm stains
purple and red and black on those who resist.

Imagining you getting out of bed,
another day breathing your hate out,
I have my doubts
about my life being worth more than your death.
A lowly thing like you never finds the light.
Forever, you're sure you're right
in assuming you deserve so much.
Honestly, they deserve so much better.