Feeling so inferior
The thought that they don’t
So you are better because
You do.
Even though,
Your flaws are far many and
Theirs seem few
Yet you take great pain,
Not just to acknowledge but to
Count and name them all
Feeding them scraps like dogs under the table
In secret
Your pets, they gulp hungrily
And you love them in a way that surprises you
Because you know they don’t deserve a full dinner
Do you pity or is it genuine?
Enough to keep them alive and you
Never deny yourself
There is grandiosity in that
“Oh benevolent master, feed me what you do not want”
But it is an unbearable grandiosity,
A shameful one that must be kept secret,
The guilt
Sense of superiority over knowing you are not.
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