Not Inanimate

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The sky is blue but not like me blue
It’s a happy shade of brand new baby boy blue.
I’m a dark blackish bruised blue
The clouds drift by unnoticed but not like me unnoticed
A little child or young adult might look upon them and see their beauty
No one sees me or if they do, they look right through me
The trash in the parking lot is blown about but not like me blown about
It is tossed about by the wind, the real wind  that ruffles hair and chills your skin
I am tossed about by imaginary winds of judgment, misunderstandings and failures
The sidewalk is trampled upon but not like me trampled upon
People walk and run on it, it doesn’t mind though
People walk all over me, however I do mind
I don’t admit it much, but I do
The trees are cut down but not like me cut down
They’re cut to give us paper, firewood, housing materials, things that help keep us going
I am cut down by words of people who need a way to make themselves feel better
I try not to let these things get to me
I try to ignore them
I try not to notice that I’m a little out of the group, like the runt of a litter off to the side
I try to ignore the words of those who are insecure and want to hurt me
But it’s hard because I’m not inanimate.
I change unlike the sky, even when it cries, it’s still blue under the black
I feel unlike the clouds, for they wander aimlessly not needing someone to see them
I hurt unlike the trash, though thrown about will never bleed
I mind unlike the sidewalk, it had no voice to say stop
I scream in pain unlike the trees, for they are cut and can regrow
I am made of flesh and blood and bones, of muscles and hair and life
I am made of emotions and ideas and imagination, of creativity and want and need
I am not inanimate.
I am here and I am me
And I am sad
Because people treat me as less than I am
And those who notice? Say nothing.

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