I have a gender. I was born a woman therefore I have fear.

I have fear. I am taught at a young age to fear the monsters that come out at night, on the street corners and in dark allies.

I have a particular monster. When I was 11 I was diagnosed with anxiety, a fire that becomes uncontrollable at times.

I have a home. To get to this home I have to walk multiple blocks at night.

I have a phobia. This phobia includes those who walk behind me, and those who walk too close.

I have rationality. I am told I am rational for fearing those who surround me as I walk home.

I have what is expected of me.  By society I have expectations of what I am supposed to look and act like to be considered a successful woman.

I have a roommate. This roommate smokes to curve hunger and in her cigarette burns more than ash but less of what she desires.

I have a mother whose wrinkles are beautiful and tell stories. These wrinkles tell the story of every smile she gave and every laugh she enjoyed, but she is told they are ugly and she covers them day after day.

I have ears. With these ears I hear women telling themselves they aren’t good enough.

I have eyes. With these eyes I see my own reflection and try and see myself as less of an image, or reflection, and more as a person.

I have mind. With this mind I create a vision of a place where people hear what I say instead of seeing what I wear.

I have a life. With this life I want change.

Miss Ashdown
faced the blackboard
and chalked leaves
and buds and stems

her fat behind waddled
as she moved
from side to side
and Carmody said

if you peep through
the small hole
in the toilets
you can see

into the girl’s cubicle
and see their *******
you stared
at the teacher’s behind

half listening
to Carmody’s yak
she moved the chalk
along the board

a stem appeared in green
her plump arm supported
her chubby hand and fingers
Carmody went on and on

about what he saw
in whispering voice
now
Miss Ashdown said

turning around
her ******* bulging
behind her purple dress
here I have drawn the stem

of a flower and here
she said
pointing to the blackboard
is the bud and here is the stem  

and so she went on
pointing out each aspect
of the nature study plants
she’d drawn

see her down the front
with her pink bow
and ginger hair?
Carmody asked

you nodded
to his whispering voice
your eyes on the girl
at the front desk

next to Helen
she wears blue *******
Carmody informed
saw them this morning

you saw the girl
raise a hand to ask
questions about the plants
or to be excused to urinate

her blue cardigan covered arm
lifted the small hand
waving in the air
and here

Miss Ashdown said
is the root layout
see how its spreads
to gather food

and moisture
to the plant
she ignored
the raised hand

and the blue cardiganed arm
went down and out of view
and her over there
Carmody said

by the chart of trees
she wears white
you moved away slightly
from Carmody’s head

remembering
some one had said
that morning
he had fleas.

This isn't what you wished
Upon that small baby
This isn't what you wished

This isn't the head you kissed
The head of that baby
This isn't what you kissed

This isn't what you held
The weight of that baby
This isn't what you held

This isn't what you smelled
The scent of that baby
This isn't what you smelled

This isn't what you felt
Felt for that baby
This isn't what you felt.

This isn't how it was supposed to be
This isn't what you imagined
This isn't what you meant me to see
The isn't what you'd bargained

This isn't the life you choose to live
This isn't the trust you chose to give
This isn't the love you once entrusted
This isn't the marriage to which you'd come in

This isn't the daughter you once knew
This isn't the love you walked into
This isn't the hope you'd had before
This isn't the love in fairytale's lore

This isn't at all what you expected
This isn't at all what you should have collected
This isn't the right end for an angel
This isn't, as it seems, quite so fatal

But this is me
Imperfect glory
Oh, this is me
With a sad, sad story

This is me
Timeless and dying
This is me
The blood I'm crying

This is me
The failure's jive
This is me
The end of a life

This is me
On sanity's cliff
This is me
Ready to drift

This is me
Desperate and wanting
This is me
Pretending and flaunting

Yes, this is me
Your youngest daughter
And it's not at all what you wanted
My dearest mother

This is me
The smoke, the pain
This is me
For loss, for gain

This is me
This is that baby
This is me
Now a young lady

This is me
Looking for love
This is me
Small and starstruck

This is me
On the wrong path
This is me
Treading on broken glass

This is me
Begging for help
This is me
****** to hell

This is me
Waiting to be saved
This is me
Turning away

This is me
Nearing Death's door
This is me
Saying I can take no more

This is me
With smoke in my lungs
This is me
Absorbing the sun

This is me
With knife in hand
This is me
Enjoying the land

This is me
Pleasing those men
This is me
Washing my hands

And this isn't what you wanted
And this is why you cry
And this isn't what I expected
And this is why I wish to die

Oh, this is why my mind is unclean
This is why you weep
This is why we couldn't foresee
And this is why I can't sleep

This is why the night is frightening
This is the absence of hope
Yet this is why we live
And this is why we cope

And this isn't life
This is unidentified
And this isn't strife
This is why we live and die

Maybe this is a maybe
Maybe this is uncertainty
Maybe this is a per say
Maybe this is you, is me

Yes, maybe this is human
Though this is inhumane
Maybe this is *******
And cannot be contained

Maybe maybe is uncertainty
Maybe maybe is insanity
Maybe maybe is a waste of hope
Maybe maybe is the knife at our throats

This is me
With a ring on my finger
This is me
With a kiss on my lips

This is me
With a love that lingers
This is me
With a sway to my hips

This is my reflection
So pretty, so ugly
This is my reflection
So imperfect, so me

This is life
Tiring and refreshing
This is time
A burden unrelenting

These are my friends
My children, my life
These are my friends
So perfect, so right

And this is pain
And this is gain
And this is love
And this is hate
And this is trust
And this is my place

But first
Foremost

This is me.

Love is a four letter word.
El.
Oh.
Vee.
E.