Years of knowing I wasn’t wanted Have poisoned the tenderest Portions of my soul.
Butterflies have become moths And the music is always out of tune.
The sunset is an ugly smear And sunrise holds no promise.
Flowers do not yield perfume And all the birds are Ravens.
Words that used to comfort me Now echo back in hateful tones
I tell myself there is a light And try hard to believe it.
But it’s illusive and it fades Each time I think I see it.
Wanting to be wanted Turns out to be a foolish game.
How can anybody want me When I don’t even want myself. ljm
I wrote this during the last weeks of my former job. Several of the men who ran the place decided I wasn't either a male or a Korean, and therefore needed to be harassed into quitting. It didn't work. I toughed it out until they finally closded the whole department so they could get rid of me without being sued. I sued them anyway and won for back overtime. Not a lot, but enough to send my message. There are more Koreans living in L.A. than there are living in Seoul, Korea. And most are lovely people.