Damaged Goods Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

After knowing how long it took me,
To heal successfully from my own illnesses...
Why would anyone suspect me to have the patience,
To accept, monitor, protect and keep around tolerated...
Damaged goods they expect me to receive from them,
Without question?
And then to say to me my needs are NOT their priority?

'Huh?
Excuse me?
You must be filming a documentary...
And your subject is 'Suspected Fools'.

You've got to be using highly secretive and exclusive medication,
Not yet offered to the public to think of that as my benefit.
You must have been picked to be chemicalized and tested?
Something in your head needs tightening of loose bolts and nuts,
As well as an absence of any respect detected you should locate...
Immediately.'

If I had not experienced this attempt to attack my logic,
My mouth would still be open from the disbelief.
And to see someone look at me as if I am the one who offends...
Is the reason why I am thrilled,
To be both physically and mentally mended.