A Walk in the Rain

A poem written by Sam Gale about Sam Gale.

Hair of blond, eyes of blue,
Skin of snow, and heart so true.
Frequently I say “achoo,”
And I am fond of one called Pikachu.
I wish I had a fu man cho
So that I could look like you.
I smell like a monkey in the zoo.
Oh, let’s go sling some poo!
I really must use some more shampoo
Because it’s not fun being chased by an emu.
I was in a play at Depew’s.
When my uncle is drunk, I steal his shoes.
If you’re crying by now, grab a tissue.
I really don’t care about your issue.
I have like a million tattoos.
I fall asleep on hard church pews.
I take boxing lessons with a kangaroo,
And I am learning how to play the kazoo.
When I’m hungry sometimes I eat bamboo.
I hang with my posse and chill with my crew.
In my ballet class I wear a tutu.
And in my free time I like to relax and renew.
I scream when I see a ghost that says “boo!”
I don’t know how they do what they do.
I wish that I was Cindy Lou Who.
So that I could have a pet cow that says “moo.”
I am really easily amused,
And I drive a car that is used.
Now I know you’re sick of all this hullabaloo.
Basically, I’m awesome. So what else is new?

A cool rush overcomes me as the beast begins to rise. I attempt to conceal it from my peers because I know that they would be disgusted by its very existence. How could I have let it become to powerful?

As it rears its ugly head I scream and shout, at no one and yet at everyone. My screams of want fall upon deaf ears for I am caged in the shadows of another. I am entrapped in a cage that is seemingly inescapable and overly exaggerated with glass as thick as four inches. I am being put on display for the world to see, but no one ventures over, not even as much as a glance towards my humiliating defeat. But why would they? Why would they look when the prized exhibit is standing so close? To them I am invisible. I am only a shadow within a shadow.

Ostracized, no it isn’t a bird, but rather a form of torture. An instrument used by many to rip apart a fragile heart. An instrument used to force bitter tears to fall to the ground in silence. No one cares for the victim as the torture subsides. No one cares to ask why the victim no longer feels any emotion. For them the game is all over, what fun is it torturing a person who no longer feels pain, who no longer cries. For the victim, though, it is the beginning of a new game. A game where they learn to go through life alone.

What would happen if all of humanity was made up of clones? No we wouldn’t have the clone wars, sorry for the star wars reference, but we would have a place void of any flair.

People in the world tend to contradict themselves when it comes to variety. They always say that variety is the spice of life, but what they forget to mention is that in order to be accepted in this world you must be like everyone else. Every person that belongs in the “in” crowd shops at the same stores, listens to the same music and they talk the same way. Where exactly is the variety in that.