The Russian in the corner is holding a drink.

You like to stare, you do.
But I’m the black spot
on the bottom of your shoe.
You can talk,
but I can too.
You don’t hear my voice little lost Jew.
I, I, I can see you seething in your chair.
Biting, cruelty
but I don’t care.
You’re wrong.
I do.
But what am I to you?
Another child to hear your sermons?
Another woman to take your orders?
Another small person to push under the tide?
Another girl to silence?
No, No, No I am none of these things
though you wish to make me one.
I am not yours to make undone.
I am strong.
I am loud.
I am passionate, walking proud.
I am traveling a path
for which you care not.
I am married to your care,
only one of us sought.
Let’s not pretend,
that you can be taught.
Let’s not pretend,
that this duo is fraught
with indifference and jest,
you’ve made us a clown.
But you shant pull me under,
I will never sink down.

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