My coworker called me a ******* today.
It hurt, but I guess that’s ok.

I’ll carry it with me like I do most things, on most days.

On my way home from work, with the sun glaring in my eyes, the red light stared me down.
A nagging thought followed me back to my town.

I’m not a ******* I thought.

Back at the place where I lay my head.
My dinner sits cold on the table.
My mind spinning with a single, torturous thought.

I am not a *******.

The night comes, as it always does.
The sun hides away, while the moon comes out to play.

As I sit in the dark, focused on the infinite darkness.
I can’t help but think.

I am not a *******.