You and Your Smallness

Your smallness
of body and mind and words,
destroyed the promise of a night
that brought me out into the light
to walk again upright from there to here.

And here I am at the verge of hating
your smallness of body, mind, and words
that have misled her, deceived her,
imprisoned her in a glass casket as if
she were Snow White without a prince.

Your smallness dashed what little hope
there was to find a safety rope for those
that only wanted to fall, and fall deeply
into whatever unknown love brought.
Instead, you crafted a noose that
sentenced us to oblivion.

I despise you.

You and your growling in that little room
filled with your musky air that you should
have left in that stairwell when you tried
to convince me that everything will pan out,
that faith is not a question but an answer,
that fear was nothing but an illusion.

You had your motivations,
that will never come to fruition
because deep in your little body and mind
you will find that my words are not just pixels
floating on your big screens, screeming of
an injustice that will find its due.

I will sit here.
I will stand there.
I will do nothing.

But you will always carry this burden—
you and your children and your children's children.
Long after I have gone, long after she has found
herself again from this cesspool where you drowned us;
because God knows who I really am
and she will, too, eventually in the end.
And you will always be small,
sad, angry, and grotesque.