I see it again.
people hating people.
like we didn't already do this
a thousand years ago.
same story.
different faces.
once it was women.
then it was the poor.
now it's whoever dares to live different.
and the crowd still thinks
they're special.
superior.
chosen.
what nonsense.! ?
you don't have to clap for someone's life.
you don't even have to like it.
but you don't get to spit on it.
you don't get to erase it.
we are all just here.
breathing.
trying to make sense of being alive.
that ugly thought of being 'a step above'
it rots in us,
generation after generation.
and still,
people carry it
like a badge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem