Poem: I Have Pain
“Hang your head low, don’t look up,” those words were said to me.
I had not the slightest idea what direction they came from,
Or who said them.
It’s not my time to disagree with the disagreeable,
When my head hurts from all the living.
As I made my way, I smelled the fires burning inside homes.
Wishing someone would invite me inside because I could use some warmth,
I conclude the people in this town are selfish,
Quick to close their curtains to their presumptions.
I could buy their curtains, silverware, and plates.
I can afford their houses, cars, and dreams of wealth.
“No, keep walking,” I hear as the pain increases in my forehead.
There’s no sympathy for complainers these days,
But my muscles still ache and my breath is cold.
I matter less when it’s dark.
It’s a certainty no one cares this time of night except one faceless voice.
My head feels like it might explode into tiny pieces,
Too little too late.
One can’t put together what is unseen.
My organs feel immoral.
Stepping closer to the edges, the houses get further apart, and I remain upright.
More advice, more words, “Pay no attention to the dogs.”
The voice continues, “Don’t make eye contact and ignore the snarling.”
By now, my eyes are watering and my vision blurry.
My back curves more and my shoulders tighten.
I wonder how frozen my heart has become.
There are no houses or dogs.
When I look up,
The faceless voice becomes voiceless again, and the chill has stopped for a moment.
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