The odd one is out

I find myself like a stranger
in the midst of people who 
look, eat, and talk like me; 
they also have two hands, a pair
of eyes and ears, a nose, a tongue,
a pair of flexible knees, a pair of feet;
yet, I cannot think like them,
especially in matters of 
entertainment, some sport, 
and some game.

Horror, terror, war, bloodshed
are a matter of amusement;
with popcorns and cokes,
similar-looking folks are thrilled,
they want to watch them
over and over again;
in some sport, violence brings fame,
players openly hit and hurt their opponents;
they have to bleed, break their bones
in the middle of a captive audience,
like those slaves of the yore, thrown
within the walls to fight against the
hungry lions, the outcome of the huddle
was all so known, either the animal
would live or would breathe the
likes of Spartacus.

What is most sad is that we don’t
understand what is so wrong,
only strangers and weirdos
like me find such display of
wasted strength, rather weak
than strong.