I snuggle in my sleep; I utter words in silence
I miss my steps of times in
I make haste every time I walk; I look up in fear
I am afraid, afraid of murmurs and hideous looks,
I am the scared, sad little Linzy.

She has a secret word engraved in the palm of her hand
She clenches her fist when I near to say hi,
She has a glare on her face every time our eyes meet
She moves her chair in a rush when I am near her,
She is my day’s existential horror

I look through the window in my small corner
I take a close look to see a reflection of me
I buy lenses so I can take a better gaze
I see none and this horrifies me even more
I am the scared sad little Linzy.

She appears liberated and eager to divulge
She walks right beside me during lunch hour
She lets me see the secret word, it is an epiphany
It was not a word, it was a formation of scars
She had dwelled on thorns instead of the beautiful roses
So did I!