Poetry from my notes.

Must I be interesting for you to deem me worthy of attention?

Must I do everything geared at “attracting” the right people?

Why can’t I just be?

Why can’t I just exist as I am and still be worthy to be looked upon wholly?

Why must I remodel myself and play the games of society, religion, tribe and race?

For the fact that you cut me and I bleed isn’t that enough to know I have life that is worthy?

Why must I prove myself grand? Great? Or meant for a greater good?

If I choose to go away from it all? It would be seen that I lost?

Lost to whom exactly? Society? Money? Or the struggle?

Why are we born and then given a cross at the same time?

A cross we bear till we kiss the ground