You can take what I have
You can hurt me into nothingness
You can speak about me in that foul way
Use me, berate me
There's no one to inflate me
You can grab my hand
And tell me you hate me
That I'm unworthy
That I should be dead
That my birth was a mistake
That I should go to church and pray
That I'll die today
But let me tell you something
You are a piece of dirt
Would I stoop to your level?
To get trod upon?
I think not.
But you will never be better than me
You will always be the filthy person who,
Untrue to their words,
Will never be something great
I will rule a nation
I will organize a society
I will be recognized.
You, however, will be the beggar on the ground
Begging for scraps
Your wild hair specked with mud,
Your hands covered in dirt.
You will remember when you treated me like I was the dirt beneath
Your expensive shoe-clad feet
When you thought you had me beat
You thought your insults were sharp spears
Ready to impale me,
To kill me.
You will look at yourself
A dirty person with puffy, bloody lips
Tattered rags that hang on your body and show what is under them
You will cry,
And it will be a bath.
You can tell me I'm not good enough
You can tell me I'm a spawn of some horrible creature
You can tell me what you want.
But there will come a time
When you look at yourself.