a poem called marked

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 30, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 30, 2012



s/he can’t remember now

just when they diagnosed him/her,

but the mark has been made---

doesn’t wash off in the shower,

doesn’t go when s/he drifts off

to sleep,

doesn’t leave him/her alone

even in the most intimate of


yes, the doctors

are always there,

pointing their finger

pointing their finger

pointing their finger---

armed with a majority of idiots

who will believe anything they read

marching behind a 21st century

consensus &

s/he is but one whose life has been

turned upside down

by this thing that s/he carries inside

which the scientific community

in their most compassionate of days

define as an “illness,” a “disorder,”

a “lack,”

of what has been determined

prior to this individual’s own existence

to be the required amount of

chemicals inside,

to function like the rest of the

hating, lying, cheating, abusing,

stealing & murdering mass

that others like to call


s/he doesn’t wear it on his/her sleeve

like so many who buy into it,

doesn’t buck up & grin,

“like it’s all part of a plan,”

as religious dumbfucks will say,

right behind their new age pals

who hide behind “everything

happens for a reason,” walking

in a vague haze of what at the end of

the day is only slavery to more

“spiritual” nonsense---

no, the mark was made

early, the damage had already

been done & after being

branded by others who think

they know better, s/he harbors

nothing but anger.

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