I close my eyes when the stars rise
but the sweet darkness does not cradle me.
No -- it is the past that thrashes me about.
The echoing of laughter and pointed fingers
and hiding in the corner as names pierce my heart.
Stupid --
a gun shot for not knowing the right answer.
Slow --
a backstab for not reading fast enough.
Ugly --
a grenade explosion for looking different.
You want to know why I am so chary?
Why I no longer speak out?
It is because she did not stop --
even as my defense crumbled before her.

When the stars rise and I sleep,
She is there-
laughing at my failures and shouting
**"I told y'all she Stupid."