They're all talking about me.
I know what you're going to say.
"You're not that important anyway."
Well, their smirks and hidden laughter aren't so hidden.
Their hatred comes unbidden.
What did I ever do to them?
My mother said that it was envy but I have so little.
Everyone wants something that they don't have.
My hair, my face and my hips take those eyes on trips and they use their lips to hurt my mind.
There's so much left out there to find.
I wonder if they will leave me alone,
Now that I can't have kids and am a crone.
I wonder if they whisper words so unkind
Because they were once left behind.
Gossip-mongers among the righteous folks all have words to say about me.
Their words hurt because I thought we were supposed to be siblings under one Father.
Instead we're birds of prey competing for mother's beak.
I have forgotten how to feel,
But I still haven't learned how to heal.