I hear the things they use to call me.
In my wake and every sleeping hour.
I remember what they said,
The sprit most unkind.
It became a part of me,
How the world reacts.
I tried to show it off,
If only to spare my sanity.
Then I hear what you call me.
The words are kinder then theirs.
My heart throbs and my mid goes fuzzy.
Like the warmth I carve from others.
You talk to me like no one else.
Know me like few have tried.
At this point I hope you are not joking.
