It’s not that I want it.
The problem is I crave it.
I’ve longed for it.
I am nothing without it.

By all means I never lacked it.
In fact, I had too much of it.
Poison was laced within it.
I grew thinking the problem was it.
At home, all I ever got was it.
For the wrong reasons I was given it.

In elementary, I hated it.
I didn’t want anything to do with it.
Hate always came with it.
Those eyes targeted me with it.
I was hurt badly with it.
The weapon against me was it.

Middle school brought an unhealthy obsession for it.
I listened to the desires of it.
I wanted to be with it.
The poison only grew in it.
I thought I wasn’t me without it.
They hated me for wanting it.

High school taught me to avoid it.
But just like liquor I was addicted to it.
My self-worth was nonexistent without it.
In my eyes, specific people had it .
I begged people to give me some of it.
Some people told me I tried too hard for it.

Now I don’t know how to feel about it.
For me, there’s a taboo surrounding it.
There’s no escaping it.
There’s no escaping the attention.