In the world of hustles and bustles, where respect’s a rare commodity, I tread through spaces, weaving tales of life’s oddity.
Personal bonds, they say, should be solid as a rock, yet I find myself wondering, “Did they miss the memo on RESPEC…K?”
In love and friendships, where warmth should envelop,
I face casual slights that make my hope develop a shield, a wall, call it what you may, to fend off the barbs they throw my way.
In the workplace, oh, a jungle of corporate beasts, where my worth is questioned at every meeting feast. Emails ignored, ideas stolen with a smirk, respect, it seems, is out of stock—just another quirk.
Education’s sacred halls, where minds should grow and expand,
Yet I stand here, invisible, while others take command. Professors preach, peers converse, but my voice is a ghost, an ongoing feeling of being watched yet ignored, oh what a post!
Family ties, they say, are the strongest of them all, yet even here, in safe havens, I face a similar fall. Respect’s a funny thing, elusive as can be, In the company of kin, it’s nowhere to be seen.
People of all shapes, sizes, and variations pass me by with nonchalant dispositions.
Drawn to disrespect like moths to a flame, in a fully populated space, it’s all the same.
Ask not just for respect like Aretha belted, but respeck on my name and being. I am here. I am not invisible. I don’t have to scream or be flashy to be seen, My presence alone demands the respect I mean.
I wear my armor, sarcasm, as my shield, In the battle for respect, I refuse to yield. Humor, my weapon, in this serious game, I call out the disrespect, by any other name.
RESPEC…K? It’s a simple ask, I suppose, but in this life’s theater, it rarely shows.
Yet I stand tall, with a knowing grin, For respect, my dear, comes from within.
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