Act (4'11)

Here you are.
Just below the odd foot,
Silent as a vulnerable mouse,
Invisible under your cloak,
Feeling from below the surface and
Longing to be noticed,
Hoping to be of aid. . .
With your back against the wall,
Your hands stuffed in the pits of your pockets,
Your snout high up in the clouds,
As your eyes remain sewn.

You could know nothing.
You could ignore everything.
You could live on without a single care in the world!
But, you're cursed.

You are cursed with a "blessing" to hear,
"You think you'll get a job with that sexuality?",
"It's not his fault, I made him lose his temper.",
"You're hurting me. . .",
"Please! Don'--" . . .

You'd rather see the images over and again
Than remember the voices of despair and defeat.
Then you wish you were deaf -
Or a thieving Empath.

Because you don't need hands
To sense someone else's misery,
To know that Agony is taunting Grim
Around every single corner,
To feel as though there is nothing you can possibly do
Aside from pace a sidewalk and fret. . .

But you learned at a young age
Nothing good ever comes from a tantrum
And, with this upgrade from leather to lead,
I suggest you relearn it quick.

Dismiss the hatred toward high-horsed officials.
Quit raging over the fact that no one,
Not even your gracious leader,
Is attempting to stop the injustice.

Now put away your picket signs and
Wipe away the worthless tears.
Tie up your big girl boots
And let's take on the world
So you can make peace some day.

Just before five feet.
As sneaky as the rat you'll never see,
Waiting to sprint out
With open arms.
Your feet pounding against the concrete
And your pupils locked on justice.
Because you have been gifted with two ears
And empowered with a strong, objective mind
That you will use to your advantage by every means -
For freedom, equality, and justice.

Here we are.