As your bones can be broken in the same manner as mine by the pressure of my peers,
Your skin penetrated by the same dull blade of resentment,
and blood spewing, fallen to the ground,
We are forced by the same gravity.

Who am I to be respected?
Who decides rather we are worthy.
Who decides that a one can raise their nose to a person of the same size and shape?
Whose decision is it?

With my broken leg, and the jagged notches to my stomach,
With my nose directed to the ground, my head sags in humility.

My blood stains the stage as I walk to the podium to speak.
All my arrogance depleted, I fall before I reach my destination.

My final words being,"Keep humble, and love all of your congruent beings."