In English class, we go without masks
and I write:
“why do I feel like everyone looks normal
and I feel so deformed?”
I attempt to hide my face away with my sleeve.
Hide my arms in my cardigan,
hide my legs under the table,
I’m not ready for others to see the full me yet.
My mother once joked in summer
that I finally had limbs to show,
had skin to prove I was human,
but didn’t want to show off.
I just wanted to exist without judgement,
to exist without fear.
I just wanted to exist.
For now, I’ll hide my arms in my hoodie sleeves,
boil to death,
but I won’t care
cause at least no one will have to see
the real me.
The human me
maybe no one is meant