I read a comment
from someone on
an Internet post:
all you mixed-breeds are
crazy. You shouldn’t
exist. You are mistakes.
Truth be told?
I’m crazy, and I
qualify,
yet I look so much like them
I’m sick each time
I pass the mirror.
If I’m
that much of
a genetic mess
why do I appear
so average
in the mirror?
All the parts
in the right place.
All the expressions
nameable. All the air
coming from my mouth
translatable.
Those who want
me undone, who feel
heritage should be
death sentence,
who chew trophy bones
all night and day,
see my face
in the street
and somehow
pass me by.
I should be grateful
but then I think of those
who by accident of
birth don’t
pass killers’ muster
and I want to
scream my self
into becoming
a target. I want them
rocked back on their
heels. I want them
to kill me and then
go home and stare
into mirrors, wondering
at the stories
they were told about
who they really are.