24 May 2012
I see you pointing,
Staring,
Whispering my name
Or rather the term you coined for me.
'There's his bird'
With a snigger, cruel sneers
Rubbing salt in the wound.
No I'm not.
I was.
I am no longer.
I don't hold that honour anymore.
So, pleased to see you too.
No, I'm not ok thanks for asking. You?
Yes, I still cry for him sometimes.
Not that you'd understand,
Guffawing as I pass you
As Thumbelina now.
Belittled by you lot,
My Pride stripped, laid bare,
Violated by a bunch of schoolboys
With flashing eyes and teeth and claws
In rugby kits and blazers,
The 'elite' of our system
Now a band of apes,
Finding pleasure in watching me pass,
Head down, eyes shut
Against your jeers
As I slink away.
Hoping to go unnoticed,
Hoping to be left in tempestuous peace,
Hoping you don't report my new form back,
Holding an ocean within my lashes,
The truth I've lived with for little more than a month
Echoing in my ears
Alongside 'munter' 'tart' 'tramp' and 'pathetic'.
If only you all knew the truth.
I was.
I am no longer.
What I Was • Opuss № I