I'm not here to be the butt of your jokes,
The anvil to your hammer,
The mortar to your pestle,
The pusillanimous receptacle to your Dickensian humor.
I'm not created for you to be thankful to your Creator that He created you in His image,
Not in mine.
I'm not here for you to count your blessings that you were born into privilege,
Not into destitution.
I'm not here for you to misquote John Bradford,
And proclaim with your vain religiosity upon seeing my face:
"There but for the grace of God, go I."
Do you even know how he paid for this utterance?
By being burned at the stake.
Would you agree to that?
Be the singed cinder with which I could scrawl my reply?
"No, not I."
April 2018
