A Small Torture

One of these is not

Like the others,

and I’ve always

known it was me.

What a terrible

Thing to have

to learn in a world

Where one thing

Is like everything

Else, the sheep

offering

their scrutiny

on the way

to their own

slaughter.

And in the noise

Of their bleatings,

throats cut,

Dirt red,

You remind me

That not being

like the rest,

Is a small torture

to pay in exchange

For the hope

Of one day

Being like You.