Patterns.

The Bookworm's picture

The world around me
follows rules, patterns.
But human life does not.
The world around me is fair
life
life is not fair. For anyone.
It is not fair that I live in the wondrous place I do
with parents who aren’t always excellent but try
when halfway across the world
a girl my age no doubt lives without parents
raising her siblings
not able to be herself without justified fear of physical harm.
That isn’t fair.

And it’s not fair that my friend’s coming-of-age rite
was prepared for all her life, a simple ceremony
calm, beautiful, finite
whereas mine was first questioning
then coming out
then staying out
and now watching blood drip down my arm
knowing that my mind snapping
will be the next part of my rite.
I don’t want to deal with this
there are no rules, no patterns, no justice to human life
the world is beautiful through the rules, the patterns,
especially when they’re hard to find
but humanity
has no rules
and so is horribly ugly.