With Friends Like These…

What do you see when you close your eyes?


Do you see love?

Do you see pain?

Do you see a memory of a lifelong passed?


I don’t see these things.


I see a divide.


I see the people who I know.

I see the people who I accept.

I see the people who I call my friends.


But they don’t see me.

They see many things.

My being never comes to mind.


I laugh at them.


I scoff at them.


I wish I could be them.


The ones who come to their minds.


Not kinder than me.

Not smarter than me.

Not different than me.


My title is the same.

I am said to be there friend.

All I am told says it is true.


But the words are different.

The faces are different.

The people are all but the same.


I see their language.

I attempt to speak it.

But the language I know always emerges.


The divide I see is always there and they cross away as I draw near.


I am their friend.

My title is such

while my being is still deemed a menace.

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