More as a joke

A Poem by Shelly H.


Why do we hurt?

Why don’t we care?

It’s all in how we treat

each other and we treat

each other unfair

We steal, lie and get

angry with each other;

And yet we tell ourselves

how we are all sisters

and brothers.


I know this to be so untrue

because of how easy it is

to steal, lie and get angry

then to play that we

are human too


We are not people;

We are not even good folk;

We are nothing but idiots

and fools, but mostly I See

us more as a Joke.


I’ve come a long way

And how I know this

Is by what it is I am

Doing differently today.


My world as I see it is

coming to an end or

it’s already there but I’m

still going on with taking each

day as they come


And I still feel good about that

I’m still functioning; I’m disappointed

in the world around me

but I’m grateful for my own.

Thank you for your time


Shelly is among those I first met when mental illness cast me homeless onto the streets of Abbotsford.

Most look at Shelly and see a stereotype.

I look at Shelly and this poem is what I see.

There are three classes of people: those who see, those who see when they are shown, those who do not see.     Leonardo da Vinci


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