My insecurities, let me show you them


Sometimes I see their shadows on the wall
dancing in flame, or in the flaws in glass.
And envy them, because they have more class
or cuter looks. I am the one that all

the bad things happened to, got raped, grew fat;
had even good things turn to ash and dust.
I lost my loves, I lost my looks, my trust.
And they’re the lucky ones who dodged all that.

The ones who kept the girl, perhaps got rich.
And I’m the one who got the poetry
and I’m the one who’ll live. Our name will die
in all those other worlds. Call me a bitch

for envy of those women who would kill
to have the gift I have. I hate them still.

About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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4 Responses to My insecurities, let me show you them

  1. elisem says:

    Ooh, says the inarticulate but appreciative lioness.

  2. anef says:

    That’s brilliant.

  3. The details may vary, but there’s a way you speak for all of us. It’s a terrific nugget of dense gold.

  4. tanithk says:

    Oof. That hits home. And oddly gives me hope through my tears. If one day I can distill my self into something half so exquisite and concise, I may yet be able to lay that envy to rest.
    Thank you.

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