Perspective (Spoken Word)

I want to write a poem of misery and despair
Of suffering and sadness
All those unanswered prayers
And that stench of regret as it hangs in the air

I would fill it with pain
Laced with death and disease
With tales of a hero brought down to his knees
Accounts of corruption, malignant disdain
Recitals of madness to drive you insane

But with each attempt, as I focus my might
On channelling wrath whilst I’m harnessing spite
This surge of disruption
That wells deep inside
Still fails its eruption
Again, is denied

With thoughts of a tablet I take every day
To stop me from sinking
Keep darkness at bay

Well, what can I say?

I’m white, middle-class
Was gendered as male
Accomplished achiever
How rarely I fail

I’ve a good education – have got three degrees
University funded with a paid PhD

But what does it mean?

Some think that it’s special but it’s really not true
When so many out there are capable too
With no hope to break through

No money, no access, no means of a pass
Wrong country, wrong gender, or born the wrong class
Now how can these people expect to advance
When the odds are against and they haven’t the chance

So now I’m secure – own my home, good career
Some perks and a pension
With little to fear

And yet there are tears
They trickle like rain
Though their flow is sincere, how could I complain
About the roof up above or the floor ‘neath my feet
When I’m stepping through homeless asleep on the street

Not only right here but then far and wide
Those fleeing from terror, no place to reside
With lives lost in chaos
How does it compare?
The poor sanitation, no medical care

Well, aside from these rainclouds, my health isn’t flawed
With this absence of illness, I feel like a fraud
There are pills that I swallow to curb my depression
But what could I possibly know of oppression?!

Well, I’m gay, I suppose – so that’s one box I fill
But unlike some places, I’m not hunted until
I’ve been captured and tortured
Then thrown from a roof
Or stoned by a crowd
As my personal truth
Is my family accepts me
Support that’s right there
My friends show no judgement
There’s kindness to spare

Yet still there is angst and it seems so unfair!

Now, it isn’t encouraged to think of one’s strife
In comparisons made to another one’s life
But it gives me perspective
And helps ease the dread
To illustrate much bigger pictures instead

So the next time I’m stressed
I shall think whilst I cry
That, sure, I’m depressed
But how lucky am I?

Aiden Bex