I sit there and know
That I could never
Engage myself in conversations
With these conundrums.

Those who are both human, and
Badly wrapped paper packages,
Filled with so much experience,
Brimming with knowledge which
Is rapidly fleeing through
The holes in the brown paper
Worn by time.

How can I speak to those
Who cannot hear my words in full
So that they must be talked to
Slowly, like
They are children
But that have been through so much
More than I
At the tender age of seventeen
Could even imagine.

How can I speak to these enigmas
Who keep asking me the same questions
But which I cannot talk to
Without being
Disrespectful

Not only towards them
But towards my future
Aged self, who will one day
Be in their position
And who I cannot imagine
Will want to be treated
Like a five year old
At the age of eighty five.

I missed you
I said to the back of his head
   I missed you
I whispered into her chest
   I missed you
I breathed into her hair
With you I'm at my best.

   I missed you
I told him after a pause
   I missed you
I shout inside my head
   I missed you
I sang into every note
But that was not to be heard.

   I missed you.

       I missed you too.

And just for that,
It's almost worth it.

Feeling inferior
Is avoided
By many and
By me
Especially.
I will do anything
To not feel inferior
But that will mostly
Make me superior -
Finding the balance
Is so difficult.
I preferred
To shut up
And not be looked down upon
And not be looked up towards
Just be looked at,
Yeah, that's her,
She's quiet,
We don't mind her.
They might feel superior
Inside
But they can't make me
Feel inferior
And that was good enough for me.
But now
I want to be heard.

I had spilled
my heart out
to them
and expressed
my desperate
wish to
join their ranks.
Apparently,
they had decided
to help me -
I am not sure
how aware
they were
of the fact I had
intoxicated them
with over-thought
timing and manipulative
words and also some
tears but maybe
in their subconscious
they knew,
because they wittily
called
the operation
W.I.N.E.

Looking at the stars
Resonated back
To crying on the water tower
Between one former enemy
In shape of friend
To another.

The man who pushed me
Resonated back
To the unwelcome touch
That made one gender
For a while
My enemy.

Boys,
****, boys, no
Please, stay away
Please, oh, ****,
Boys.

Talking about middle school
Resonated back
To grasping at friendships
That didn't really exist
But also to now
When they do.

Friends,
God, friends, yes
Please, stay, stay
Please, thank you
Friends.

Gender not mattering anymore
Resonates back
To when it mattered the most.