What am I without pain?

Without discrimination, without hardship?

Yet without the talent, the ability

For riches, fame, love-

Who exactly am I-

a person tuck in the middle

Feeling like a nonentity

not a celebrity-

It is us who suffer the most

We do not have the PITY for suffering

We do not have the GLORY for the talent-

It is now that you wish for the suffering

the discrimination

the pain of nonacceptance

the looks of hatred-

they would be more than the lack of anything anyone

feels about you-

a ghost-

That suffering is worth the acknowledge-

worth the pity-

and yet a whisper wishes against your hopes-

for you cannot survive any of the hatred-

and you are left with you

nothing