I’m on the third floor. I’m too high up. I’m scared of heights, but I enjoy rollercoasters. I need to ground myself. Too much time in air. Bring She back to trees. I push the button. No stairs today because She’s physically, emotionally, and spiritually weak. It’s been a long week, a long month, long year.
God, thank you. God, mend me.
I should’ve taken the stairs. I’m at the elevator, and another She takes one look at me. She lets out her sigh of annoyance when She’s next to He. Her performance. Great, another one who doesn’t know She, judges me. I’m not sure why some dislike me the moment they first see me, see She. Maybe they read what I write and judge She. I’m not here to please. I did that before, it’s the curse of the Women. Hello I am She, and you’ve never heard me speak. You’re judging me. You’re caught in the confrontation of your bleak. I am more than my stride. I walk tall, no more weak. They already broke She. Why would I break me by letting a stranger She affect me?
I’m not sure why you don’t like me?
But I’m glad I’m your sight to see. A ride in this elevator of petty, when you decide to laugh behind my back at me. I see your glare next to me.
Hello I am She.
young woman. I caught you. and now,
You hide your eyes from She?
It’s because I caught you acting petty with envy and jealousy.
I’m tired, here’s another sight to see. Another strain on my day, after I’ve cried for months and weeks. Leave She alone, and stop judging me.
It’s the curse of She. The curse of She is everyone judges me.
you haven’t even heard me speak. You didn’t let me introduce myself through my speech.
I am She.
Don’t look at me if you’re caught in the confrontation of your bleak.
I’m sensitive. I’m meek.
my stride and writing aren’t my disguise.
I may not speak, but I write to remind She of me.
I’m human, and your judgment eats me. it eat me because you have no idea
who I be.
to sleep past my birthday.
Wake She up when June ends.