I Am My Own...

“Why are you so jumpy?”

That question is hurled at me with laughter quickly following.

I get it.

Quite the entertainment to simply have to tap a girl on the shoulder or the side

And see her jump up two feet high.

But there is a side to that story you cannot really see.

You laugh,

But every time she reacts she is reminded of the touch that made her

What you may call “jumpy.”

She is reminded of the looks of fire and destruction that each man had.

She is reminded of trust broken and many tears that were shed.

She remembers the shame, though she never understood why.

She remembers the shadows and feeling the need to hide.

So she has become this shell of someone who always looks down.

It is better to go unseen than become someone’s disgusting plan to devour.

So she hides.

So she runs.

She always seems undone.

And despite her attempts to pray and sit in the pew,

It was there on holy ground that she was nearly split in two.

Then some miraculous thing unfolded,

Like a butterfly in a cocoon.

She no longer saw herself as the mistake,

But a strong force in which others had betrayed.

Should the sun stop shining simply because others stare?

Should the trees stop growing because the birds are singing upon them to the air?

I will raise my head.

I will stand up straight.

I will wear the tight clothes.

And maybe even paint my face.

Whatever makes me feel lovely,

It is whatever I choose to make.

It is my body.

It is my life.

It is my soul.

It is my pride.

So please stare on if you must.

I dare you to call out.

I will not hide.

I will not look down.

I will look you in the eye.

Send a shiver down your spine.

You will know that I am strong.

You will know that I am not just some dainty damn thing.

I am a person.

I am a soul.

I am a creature.

I am my own.