Shame Poem by Ian Effendi

What does it mean to come home
every night to sad faces and sullen
dreams? To be told that you are not
something to be bothered with
and to be told that you're beyond
saving?

What does it mean to come home
every day to shouts of pain and agony
where you are told that, “you aren't
welcome here, ” and, “you aren't
going to amount to anything, ”
if you can't follow a broken system
in an unfair and broken world?

What does it mean to come home
every evening and be told off
by your family and friends for
being something that you thought
you weren't and you never wanted to be?

What does it mean to come home
every single time to a dysfunctional
society unfathomable to even the
most dysfunct tyrants ever to walk
the Earth, time and time again?

To be told, “No, you can't wear this.”
To be told, “No, you can't wear that.”

To be abused verbally for standing up
for what is your own.
To be attacked when you point outwards
at the small and tiny idiosyncrasies
existent in the smallest of places.

What does it mean to come back
from the brink of death
and told, “You should have stayed
dead.”?

What does it mean to come back
from the edge of life
strapped in with needles and tubes
fluids flowing in and out
of arms and legs indecently,
and be told, “I hope you learned
your lesson.”?

To be told, “Yes, I hate you.”
To be told, “Yes, I wish you weren't
born those many years ago.”

And is it worth it to live
through a broken world
if it means you can one day ask
“Did I do well, Papa? ”
“Did I do well, Mama? ”

And is it worth it to live
through a broken world
if it means you can one day hear
“You failed me, son.”
“You failed me, oh son of mine.”

And is it worth it to live
through this teary-eyed world
if it means you can one day be
“The one who was ashamed.”
or, maybe, just possibly,
“The one who was honored.”

And maybe it is worth it to live
through this unfair creation
if it means that one day you can say
“I am the one who was never loved.”
“But, I am happy to say I love still, today.”