You Tear It Up

From Feb 2009

You tear it up

I pick up the pieces and reuse

You listen to cruel experiments without flinching

I feel sick and want to cry

You discuss slippers and handbags and criticise my hair

Can’t you see I don’t care?

You don’t care for culture or god

I yearn for both

You accept

I can’t understand sadism or a will to hurt

There is no romance for the philosopher

For anyone courageous, intelligent and self-aware

There is no dependence

I like my space.

I don’t stick to people

But there is angst of not being understood

Or perhaps it is a longing for like minds

We who love, care, feel, think, and learn.

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