The Question That Is the Bane of My Existence.

    For this week's blog, I struggled to find a way to write something enjoyable for myself while also being presentable. I mean, come on, experiencing poetry? I'm better off experiencing a nap, thank you very much. But seriously, when this assignment specifically was pushed back a week, I felt relieved, but now, having to do it on the first day of fasting for Ramadan, I curse my lazy past self. Instead of doing nothing except for sitting on the couch and watching TV like I rightfully should be, I’m stuck doing this assignment. Plus, the prompt left me quite confused: what can I even write a poem for? And then, like a beacon of light, someone asked me the stereotypical question that all muslims dread during the month of Ramadan: "You can't eat or drink anything for 30 days straight"? And I knew, as soon as they asked that question, that I'd found the solution to my minuscule homework problem.

  My goal with writing this poem is to display the annoyance that comes with being asked such an obviously ignorant question while also pointing out why it's so incorrect. I tried to make it lighthearted yet still clear enough to show my agitation. It's a little long, but I think if you look at it from an over-reaching English teacher's perspective, it symbolizes my long-standing loathing for the inquiry. This may come off as a little extreme, but when you're told the same thing over and over, there's bound to be a point where you fail to care about being gentle. Also, as my poem ends, I try to include yet another annoying stereotype that comes with my religion. Anyway, moving on, this is my poem:

The Question That Is the Bane of My Existence.

It's only been one day of Ramadan,

and beginning from the start of dawn,

I hear the question that is the bane of my existence,

my dislike remaining despite my seemed indifference.

"You seriously can't eat or drink anything for 30 days straight?"

Yes, the stupidest question I've personally grown to hate.

It always leaves me absolutely flabbergasted,

and I have to control my emotions, even when I seem open-handed.

The comment is one without any ounce of logic,

truly making me feel like I'm in a fever dream or a comic.

Factually, a human can't survive without food for 30 days exactly,

depending on their circumstances, actually,

a few days before and after at most.

After that, you're little more than a ghost.

"But don't you have to do that as a faithful condition?"

They continue after I correct them, placing me in an annoying position.

Right, because I would actively risk my life for a religion,

mine specifically seen as a division.

Although it's one of the three biggest in the world,

their confusion and disgust never fail to leave me floored.

They speak as if my beliefs are paranormal,

quite genuinely deplorable.

And let's not even mention water.

Three days without it, and you’re a goner.

When I mention these stats, they falter.

"I'm sure you could make it work", they offer.

Buddy, what does that even mean?

I think to myself instead of scream.

No joke, I've received that response.

One that lacks any critical thinking and nuance.

Anyway, I guess that's all for my little rant.

This may have been as incessant as an ant,

but whatever, 

I can't keep hearing this question forever.

I swear, if I hear it one more time,

I won't keep teetering on a respectful line.

I'll pout and shout.

I'll even rip my hair out—

Oops! 

It seems I've stumbled into yet another stereotype.