You with the sign,
And the C-4 in your pocket,
your righteous indignation camouflaged
only by that Cheshire cat grin.
Before you exact your toll on me,
Sentence me to my plight…
walk a mile in my shoes!
I am a crack baby, born with A.I.D.S.
I am poor, adopting parents object
to the color of my skin, and I cry a lot.
I am the shameful bastard child
that reminds you of your indiscretion.
I am born to parents who not only
hate each other, but also hate me,
because their one night of pleasure
resulted in a lifelong taxation.
I am neglected, beaten, raped,
and abused, as I am left in the competent
hands of the foster care system.
Your tax dollars guarantee
I receive my share of suffering.
You seek to make your religion everybody’s law
How could a loving God
condone this kind of torment?
I wish for you a swift and final reckoning…
that your private hell begins
with living out all the lives
Of those you sought to bring forth
into an unforgiving world
Where they were…
© 2012, Dani Heart. All rights reserved.