Benighted

The abnormal?

We spit at and judge as a dunce

We treat him like clay,

Trying to shape him

But he hardens when meeting with the air

And we can no longer mold him

So we throw him

We crack him

And he finds his shards

And rebuilds them

Alone.

The abnormal?

We throw darts at

But—

We are the aliens

For we wake up

And salute

And go to bed after prayers

We wake up

And salute

And go to bed after prayers

We wake up

And salute..

And go to…

And so we are the dunces

Jaded—

Frozen with envy in our palms.