You Will Never Know These Words (original poem)

A poem I wrote during Style class at Vancouver Film School.  Take a guess who it’s about.

You Will Never Know These Words

You will never know these words.

I know you by an empty seat.

I seem to have misplaced any memory of us,
Or perhaps they were carelessly bleached out.
When your shadow creeps over me,
I feel a familiar fear settling in.
I learn not to question because then I doubt,
And people don’t like to be doubted.
If something is not right, there is always room under the ever-growing, black rug.
You’ve always expected the perfect life,
And when that doesn’t come about, you say it goes against tradition,
That people are stamped with “sick”
If they aren’t measured right down to the dot.
You’ve laid out the tracks for me,
Expecting me to chug along without the slightest of a whistle.
I would rather derail and flush into a fury of fire.

I am told that wounds heal,
But these raw scars run deeper than the deepest of trenches.
Your rusted words have come too late
And it only adds a tangled knot to your string.
Your face still sags when you see me walking your way,
And though you try to hide it, your eyes whisper,
“You disappoint me.”

I may share your blood but you still find a way to hate me.

Hypocritical.
Bigoted.
Ignorant.
Apathetic.
Oppressive.

You will never know these words.