[ That moment at the locker I realized I would never be free ]
The melt!
The recoil!
The hiding!
The shame.
Those frightening, disgustingly concerned eyes piercing me,
Forcing me into a corner, out of myself completely.
Do you realize what you’ve done to me?
The “Are you okay?”, as this version of my identity
Doesn’t suit you, clashes with your understandings of me.
Shame.
I tower over you but feel myself become a tiny puddle,
Melting into my locker. “I prefer you how you usually are,
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