Monday, 22 December 2014

I am me...

14 and unfree, chosen chains chasten character. 'The leader' longs to lambast the liking lovingness that lingers through my heart for others.
Beaten by bullies with a fist full of names; powerfully pounded by punches of insults. My internal inquest; investigating the inklings of identifying in earnest the true meaning of myself.
Questions, no answers. Hate hovers and holds heavy in my head. More questions, still no answers.
Fear follows frantically, furrowing and folding the freedom of facing friends. The flames of fantasy found in falsely feeling favourite. Please let me be liked.
They justify their judgments through jargon and juvenile joyfulness. Me just being me the jewel of their jest as I juggle  jibes and jokes that are far from funny.
Taken twofold by arms of anger as I'm ordered to lick piss from the floor; taken threefold at my talkback. I'm thrust by the temple towards the tin; my teeth are taken out. Their thunder throbs my thoughts and all.
Their laughter lives loud as I lay lame in length on the floor. Blood bellows, red and running, ruining my outside and in.
Bent, bruised, bloodied and beaten. Belief banished and my brain blackened by blame. This is my fault for being me.
I succumb. Let me sleep. You win.
14 and free, I straighten my spine and stern my shoulders. The sense of inner strength. Spirits soar as I stride these streets.
My music is me. Magical and moving; my mood manipulated at Marley's message: 'every little thing is gonna be alright'.
Rightfully revelling in resilience and resolve, as lightning strikes my run towards life.
Positive posture, posing public in proudness. A picture of persistence, personifying my personal placement amongst the crowd.
I stand on the shoulder of myself, shouting in success: "get up off the floor". I am me; leaning in love and longing to live. 1-0 up with a million to go.
Bullies, blaggards and burglars of esteem; the power of my person, a shield of strength shrugging your suggestions that you scream to shake my soul. Feisty and fired up in my findings of figuring the finesse of faith in oneself.
I am me. Tall and not taken. A character unchained. Justified not a joke. Loved and loving. I succumb to life. I'm wide awake. I win


1 comment:

  1. I'm so sorry these things happened to you. You made me cry...