Pretentious Poetry

Apathy and the Spectator

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I saw her walking down the street, her head bent

Her countenance downcast, tears rolled down her cheeks

Pity welled up in my eyes, yet I could do nothing.

She was an outcast, exiled from society

She carried a virus in her blood, a virus

Consuming the fire that she possessed, that made her who she was

She was a woman, a mother, a protector

But now the tables had turned, her name dragged through mud

She had contracted the deadly virus through a sin,

A sin that was slowly annihilating her, AIDS

A term used to term the damned, their life

Destroyed in an instant by men in white coats

Unhelpfully helping, spouting what they call soothing words

Words, words are wind; nothing can help them now

Society, prejudiced, entrenched in stereotypical notions

People, judging, condemning for faultless acts

Notions held, uneducated, illiterate yet destructive

As I saw her walk down that street, an emotion rose

I trudged towards her, she raised her head

Expecting another fiery attack from yet another animal

I said nothing. I smiled. I walked with her down that dreaded street

The street that seemed akin to walking through Dante’s circles of hell

Now seemed bearable. She smiled. And I

I turned from the apathetic spectator to something more in her eyes

And in mine.

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7 thoughts on “Apathy and the Spectator

  1. True an unfortunate story… Really feel for their condition.
    They don’t have to be treated like lepers! Our society is so orthodox that they cannot realize this.
    Will be writing on this soon.

  2. Nice poem. People really need to open up their minds. Came here from another excellent write up on similar topic by Dabhi Brendan. Keep writing..

  3. The brown leaf, she lost her gleam
    As the green leaf bowed to the scheme.
    In her laps, where once sunshine played;
    Returns to the sand, alone and decayed.

    sad..

    deadpoet.

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