When someone believes you don’t belong,
it’s their ignorance that’s judging where you’re from.
When they determine you don’t have a home,
remind them that no one really does,
and if your soul and your flesh don’t seem to match,
know that bigots are hard to tell,
and do not fear what those dumbasses may attach,
to the you you’ve cultivated so well.
“I don’t believe in shortcuts,” we hear you say,
but the truth is simply, one hasn’t come your way.
Sad trifles and condemnation against people who gain unearned,
you stifle in stagnation about your intellect sorely spurned.
In fact, people rarely get what they don’t deserve,
yet you complain, create nothing, oh, what the nerve.
What are the chances you’ll wake up to the crushing feeling
that the problem is you who is jealous, always squealing.
No matter how it is that you want to see it,
peeps like you always lose, you’re a fraud, counterfeit.
She puts on a smile so the world may see,
the she in her she wants to deceive;
with a plan and a purpose too great to relieve,
she pursues the perception wholeheartedly, naive.
“Be my lover,
and let’s live together,
a life on par
with all the others.”
“Or perhaps, instead, let’s fly upstream
and build a life seen only in dreams.”