You are rain,
Accepted in comfort,
Born in love,
And never of hate.

I am storm,
Welcomed by protest,
Born with rage,
And never of love.

You were handed a spoonful of rice,
Because of the beauty you helped grew.
I was given an uncooked grain of rice,
Because of growth I have destroyed.

For hundreds of years,
And thousands after that,
You were the symbol for everything:
Strength, beauty, power, wisdom.
Whilst I am the symbol
Of things that I have long been fighting for
And deemed a monster
Whenever I try to do so.