You are bigoted you,
with your biases, blindly
you walk along, spitting your opinions
liberally, with conviction, with your
“Oh, you have no idea how right I am” smile.

And here I sit, with my ideas naive
of what being fair means, stumbling along
my own acts of kindness pricking me,
tripping me, self doubts hounding me,
with worries creasing my face, with my
“Oh, am I doing the right thing?” grimace.

And yet, look at the both us,
differences not making much of a difference
with the odds in your favor actually
your louder words, and louder actions
travelling farther,
heard better, repeated much often.

And my own insecurity left in the back, smirked at, tsk tsk
“Look at that naive idiot,
sad that he doesn’t know
how things
are actually done around here.”