“To Whom It May Concern”

Look at me,

am I not good enough?

For your empathetic love?

I fought bulls

and slaughtered lambs.

So that you may touch my head

and say that I am saved.

But every time I bend my knees,

and curve my spine.

As my head touches the cold floor.

I hear only silence.

An annoying reminder

that you will not glance at me.

The bulls may as well fight me

and the lambs slit my throat.

All I’ll get from you

is a stone cold shoulder,

as cold as my body may be.

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