Untitled

Looking down on me,
you think me blind (and dumb too).
Treating my silence like a plea
to be enlightened by your
mindless droning and
purified in the wisdom of your greed.
I don't pray, but you're
willing to convert me and
save my soul. Like a saint,
willing to overlook defiance
foaming from the mouths of the
obviously insane. My
priorities are not in the right place
and I don't collect interest
on love. I am a failure.
I am inadequate.
I am illiterate.
I am bound in your institution.