I will steal your pain


I will steal your pain.
I will market it.
I will brand it.
I will stand on platforms and
shout about it.
I will point at it and
photograph it and
shed tears over the injustice and
dare others not to share my
acerbic remarks on it.
I will steal your pain.
I will extract it from you.
I will get angry on your behalf,
whether you want me to or not.
It’s mine now:
mine to distribute;
mine to profit from;
mine to roll up like a newspaper
to swat those grinning do-gooders.
I will steal your pain,
but only pieces of it;
only the nuggets.
That which I cannot use,
that which endures,
that which says, “just… sit with me,”
I will toss to one side.
What? You think you have problems?
Listen to my sobs.
Listen to my agony.
Listen to my unending loneliness.
I will steal your pain
because I need it
to be noticed.



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