Poem: "We Never Win"
Sometimes when they look at me, my insides churn.
I see stares, I hear words, I sense judgement,
upon my body where I placed years and years of self-inflicted wounds.
Metaphorical, physical, tangible, intangible.
I threw everyone’s words into a growing pile on my shoulders.
It’s not just him, sometimes it’s her too.
His chuckles hurt, but her comments burn,
deep into the fractures of my concealed blues.
Moisturize, prime, conceal, powder,
every morning before I pretend I’m ready to take on the world.
I spend dollars on the outside, while my insides tear apart.
I wish to be invisible with my mind working alone,
detached from the boulder I carry around.
Because if my brain stood alone,
my words, and only my words, would carry more meaning.
It’s my words that I want plastered on the screen,
yelled from the voices of cheerful crowds
believing that there is more to life than the lies
told in every magazine on every store shelf
in every city and every country around the world.
I look for a day when I’m not beaten to the ground
by the eyes that tell me I don’t belong.
For every small joke made at the expense
of a creative soul whose body is full of flaws,
I pray for that day where we discard all our frowns.
If it’s too much or too little,
it has to be only mine.
Whispers from ear to ear
shouldn’t destruct my path of where I want to go.
I am the only navigator of my own compass.