People Are Not Good To Each Other Poem by I.J. Benjamin

Yesterday,
the most beautiful woman in the world
was going to kiss me, except, the second
before our lips touched, i fell apart
like a shivering coward of a man.

At that moment,
she looked at me
strangely,
like I was some inanimate piece of
rock
and walked off.

In retrospect i have to ask
when exactly did this sense of
hatred for myself come?
when did I lose all self-respect and belief
when did I arrive at the point of looking in
the mirror and wishing the person looking back
dead?

I remember being bullied in school
i remember the bruises and the torn jumpers
i remember the names, and the hateful words, and the
smiles. Oh yes, I remember the smiles, and those gleaming,
glaring eyes of pure hatred the most.

Hatred of what?
of insecurity?
Why does one person do this
to another?

But of course, as one grows old,
one sees it everywhere, except that the shoves
and the pushes
and the evil smiles
are hidden behind false pretences.

All we can do is be good to ourselves.