An odd sort of Poetry

Rewind and Resume

I knew it wouldn’t be good.

I knew it wouldn’t be nice.

I expected the heartless stares,

and comments laced with ice.

 

You know I’m doing well,

as well as I can do.

So why do you talk so mean,

even when I’m not talking to you?

 

They’ll never understand,

however they’ll surely assume.

I’m not the same as before.

I can’t rewind and hit resume.

 

Please don’t shower me with glances.

Please don’t touch my skin.

Please don’t comment on my looks;

That’s no way to begin.

 

 

 

 

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