Poetry

minority report

Never the last picked
and the first picked on.
Never were the odd one tricked

into conclusions long forgone.

Never wondered why you didn’t fit in,
why the colour of your eyes, hair, skin,
how you walked, talked, smelt, felt and ate,

fodder for jokes others would bait.

Never challenged stares on trains
just for holding a mismatched hand,
or hear constant, innocent refrains

grate and grind like sand

between your clenched smile.

See the quick judgement of eye
by people wondering if they’re safe
when you sit next them on the bus, how they try

to inch away from you –

See beyond the face,

beyond what’s out of place.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s