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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