Scorn the child

From birth she felt unheard.

Silenced unintentionally.

It ate away at her.

She observed the world through silent eyes,

only speaking when spoken to,

an unsolicted vow of silence.

Teachers would tell her parents how quiet

and well-behaved she was.

She never uttered a word.

She wanted to.

She wanted to scream from the rooftops,

so much going on inside,

and nowhere to put it.

She dug a hole, deep inside her oblivion.

She would tuck each thought,

each feeling,

away.

That’s what felt right.

One time, she couldn’t even ask to go to the bathroom.

The words just wouldn’t come out.

So she just wet herself, and pretended she didnt even realise;

despite it being so glaringly obvious;

a pool of wet leading to her,

sopping up her legs.

She didn’t want to do wrong.

Just sink away,

be ignored, no trouble atall.

Complacent.

Until she snapped.

Teenage years, saturated with an over-load of hormones;

her pit could hold no more.

She screamed, she yelled -

Still nobody listened, still nobody saw.

Her cries for help ignored.

Invisible to the naked eye.

Scrabbling for her freedom, her control.

She gave so much of herself away.

So much so, that she was nothing;

nothing else left to give,

no energy left to take.

Self-absorbed and selfish.

She returned to her shell.

A sugar-coated version of who she wished to be,

who she knew she was.

She felt she had so much wisdom, so many ideas and thoughts.

Her brain ran constantly, taking in information around her,

observing from the outskirts of life.

But she wasn’t living.

Crushed down to be who she thought people wanted her to be.

Caught up in lies, not telling the truth.

A web she built to hide away.

They will not know her, she is sure.

Not meant for this world,

not meant to be understood.