My Obsession

I love the people.

Even if,

            I don't think they need it.

            I don't think they want it.

            I don't think they know it.

            I don't think it even helps.

I may find that one day they'll thank me,

            But most likely they won't.

Either way, it can only get easier,

            Or harder.


So I love the ones who make me laugh

            And cry.

So I love the ones who aren't hypocritical

            Only liars.


I love those who have it bad

            And have vowed not to turn out worse.

I love those who have been bruised

            But have no use for my pity.


The ones who should be dead by now

            But are somehow more alive than I am.

Those who should be beat by now

            But who instead have simply found a new drumbeat.


Who avoid pain

            While relishing it.

Who show they care

            By sticking it out.


The immoral anomalies

            Who just might have more morals than I do

            And are too common to be atypical.

The respectful rebels

            Who could use a little more respect

            And who know rebellion is too cliché.


Weirdo, Creeper, Bully, Coward, Druggy, Delinquent...

But I call them

My Obsession.


I love.

Them all.

This poem is about: 
My community


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