Anytime I'm looked at, I fear that person is judging me. Especially in this classroom I'm sitting in. These people saw me collapse in the hallway, saw my punch the desk and scream out clutching my chest. They witnessed me breaking down. I fear that now those moments haunt me. They look at me with compassionate eyes, they ask me how I'm doing each day. They're worried, I can tell. They think that I will do something out of panic, out of confusion and frustration. They think I'll hurt someone, or hurt myself. They find me unstable.
They saw me in my worst state of mind, and now instead of accepting that I'm slightly different, they judge me. They look at me oddly, or they look at me sympathetically.
I hide behind my hair, using it as a curtain, a wall in order to block out their curious eyes.
"Is she okay?"
"I don't know. She seems a little off today."
"She might freak out again."
"What was that about?"
"Do you think it was a mental issue?"
"She might be a freak."
"Maybe. But she seems so nice."
"Yeah, it'd be a shame."
I hear their every word, my heart pounds against my chest, hoping the teacher will put their whispers to a rest.
When will my pain finally stop haunting me?
When will they stop seeing me this way?
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I just thought I'd share what I hear from the people who witnessed me in a bad state of mind.
And, it's not rhyming. Hopefully you enjoyed it.
Vote, comment, share if you'd like to.
Rosa Vazquez.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry From The Heart
PoesíaPoetry is my release. I have a story to share that no one wants to be true. I write from life, and it is my poetry. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Cover by @krazy-dreamer
