Arrangement of days
become arrangements of rejections
One after another,
I am cast last place
Rejected by the people I care for,
the communities I yearn for,
the places I feel most comfortable.
They feel bad for me,
They give me their pity
This I do not wish.
Can’t I just be,
Without all this worry.
I receive the bouquet of rejections
With a bouquet of “Let us rub it in your face”
Keep them to yourselves and let me be
Happy in my own little world.
I can keep my peace…
And I pity those who pity me