The girls at the playground
don't talk to me.
They look
and stare
and whisper
and yet ignore me.

"What did I do,"
I always ask myself.
Am I ugly?
Do I smell?
Am I too loud?
Or annoying?
Or stupid?
Or weird?

Those days of girls and insecurities have passed.
Loud and proud, baby.

Weird, schmeird.