How do I fit in, now that the world refuses to acknowledge my presense?
I was beat up.
All the time I get beat up,
and there’s pain everywhere, every time.
I’m a buffet table and everyone’s feasting on my ass.
They’re singing songs about the incredible shitstorms I’ve been through,
with a smile.
A smile. That’s what we need at times.
A fucking smile, in the face of the world’s practical jokes…
a fucking smile.
I would smile, but my teeth have been knocked out.
On my back, and the backs of people like me
the beautiful people of the world lives.
I’m tired.
I’m tired and hungry and angry.
Why would I want to fit in, after this?
This invisibility, this shit,
is my prison now. I rot from now on.
-I was just waiting for my shift to end.
