Pathos Regime

I see you sittin' there
writing and complaining.
What flows from your mind to the screen?
Nothing significant as far as I can see.

You cry and whine for attention.
What makes you think I care?
I see your icon and screen name.
I'm thinking "drama queen".

You say "eff you all".
I say "Flakes you all are."
You say "I wanna be pretty".
I say "Is that all you want?".

See those tortured poems.
I know what they are.
They're cries for pity.
Why else are they public on the net?

Do you live for your
little cubbyhole in cyberspace?
I think that you do.
So while you update
for the fifth time...

chew on this.

Tell me, comfy suburbanite,
did you hear about
the kid your age
cursed with AIDS? Cancer? Hepatitis?

How 'bout the twelve year old girl
that got raped at her boyfriend's bidding?
On her thirteenth birthday,
her parents made her deliver her first baby.

Now here's a thought for you.
Take a look in your chem class.
Has it ever crossed your mind that
your lab partner is starving...for any reason?

And what are your woes?
Plans for Friday night.
The perfect outfit.
Borrowing Daddy's car.
What music to (ahem) download.

I see your screen name,
your icon's visible,
and your "pathos" is on display.
Know what? It doesn't matter.

I have no pity...

unless your plans are thwarted by you being taken hostage;
unless that perfect outfit gets you beaten;
unless you're driving Daddy's car and get hit by a drunk;
unless you get arrested for your downloads.

Till then, I won't stomach
your attempts at pathos.
Entice me by showing
some concern for true tragedies.

I wish I could do something to
smack those rosy lenses from your face.
I want to pull you from that computer screen
and take you on a tour of reality.

It's your cozy selfishness
that I hate to see
enveloping my generation,
halting us from progress.

So quit hiding behind
your rock in your cubbyhole.
Face those social demons
to find what pathos really is.

Author's note: To see this poem's sibling piece, visit "Love Springs Eternal"  [ASR].