upon sacred pedestals

What am I perceived as? 

What do people sense 

When they peer at me 

From worn corridors and

Virescent-striped walls?


Am I another one

Of the sophomore horde—

Average, simple; two years

Slip away as soap 

Joyfully dancing betwixt

The clumsy fingers

Of a newborn; 

Two years to come,

Carefree sentiments dispersed—

The scattering of birds

At daunting sight of 

The unknown?   


Or, am I distinct; am I unique

In the foreign language 

My tongue swirls

So elegantly, as creamer

Billowing in the currents

Of Stygian cold brew; 

Sharp consonants a peculiar

Sweetener, utterly alien 

To their native ears?


Or, am I the erudite,

A studious pupil who 

Cannot rest, scorns repose  

Till their insatiable thirst 

For enlightenment assuaged?


Or, can they not discern? 

Are their eyes forever barred?

Must they only see

The frosted brand of “anorexic”,

Permanently burned into

My speckled milky forehead?


Do they gossip, do they

Whisper, their words

Trailing cigarette smoke

Beneath the bathroom stalls.


Do they murmur softly 

As I amble by: 

She is the girl;

The girl who missed 

The start of school.


The classes huddle, 

Imparting secrets;

Locutions caught in 

Furtive nets, altering to

Staggered phrases:

I heard…  was in … hospital.


They mumble warily,

As if the words are 

Nocuous vipers, eager

To abscond their 

Jars of entrapment;

And I, a fragile doll.


What am I? Who am I? 

To myself, 

I do not know; 

To others, 

I am but further led astray.


As day breaks clouds

Of morrow; and moon erst 

Shut its gentle lids

Asleep— am I forever 

To be hailed as 

Another anorexic girl?

Natheless my attainments, 

Must I be compared—

Gingerly placed upon

Sacred pedestals;

Merely for a disease?     

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