You with the finger and the laughing
At a kid weeping with his face to a wall
Where do you locate the gall
And the overall shamelessness
To laugh at the suffrage of those
Who managed to form opposing opinions
In the dominion of "think this" and "speak that"?
Who do you think you are
With those flashy cars and stacks of cash
That define your success
And your undying urge to suppress
The flow of culture in your kingdom?
I'm just curious
You keep spreading word that piety
Cures depression and anxiety
Yet do no effort to purge your clinics
From clerics dressed in white jackets
I said, lacking necessary knowledge of the self
Are the people who were assigned to cure
Our internal ailments and pains
Why do your therapists
Treat our pains like numbers on paper
Like simple problems that can be troubleshot
With not more than a magic chemical doodad?
Not gonna lie, I'm deathly mad
But I am still curious
Surely I'm but a guest in your lands
Though I, as much as you and they,
Was born and raised in your hometown
Hearken for I'll say this only once again
The same dogs that barked in these dirty streets
We've both seen and possibly feared
For, shockingly, your people'd rather hurt them
Than be their ray of hope in a town
That's always watered down "man's best friend"
Into "scary thing that bites at random"
Might I clarify that seldom such a creature
Would think of scarring you for no clear end?
Cosmetic piety calls for a cosmetic view
Of the world, and possibly all of the cosmos
Why do you suppose that dogs are a threat?
I'm less curious
I've seen most of your transgressions
Not against the one, but against many
Is there any reason
One could say the lord's name in vain
And claim it reeks of loyalty to the creed?
I beseech you to look in a mirror
You have committed a fatal error in judgment
You're not asked to be a saint
Just use your brain before you speak
Before you bully a meek young boy
For being more comfortable in his skin than you are
Are you comprehending how despicable
The actions you deem everyday and normal
Are to oppressed factions?
A daily terror, conditioned into being
You give shame to the name "human beings"
Let me iterate this further
Thou art human, and thy art is murder
Not always gory slaughter and severed heads
But laughter that haunts one from the day of their conception
To no end
I am no longer curious
I'm furious that the answer to so many people's
"Why did you make me this way, God?"
Or "I don't want to stay myself anymore,
What did you put these flaws in me for?"
Is from the lips of the majority
A simple "maybe we should help them instead today"
A simple noble use of popular authority
Instead of a merciless "screw them, it's funny anyway"
Today is the time to utter that "maybe"
But will you be decent and just humor me?
Will you finally make that move?
Could you, after my plea, be even moved?
Okay, now I'm curious!