The Poisonous Word
You may be wondering,
What could it be?
If I use it what would
happen to me?
The answer is nothing.
It is only poison
when you say it about me.
She.
The word cuts me
like a knife.
She.
It slowly poisons me,
It slowly kills me.
You say it
because of what you see.
But did you ever ask
If it was okay with me?
She.
It’s like a punch
to the stomach.
She.
They all repeat.
She.
She.
She.
I am now on my knees,
crying in my hands.
Whispering,
He.
Please, he.
It’s he, please.
They lay a comforting hand on my shoulder
and whisper
the poisonous word:
She.
I fall to the ground,
Defeated.
When they say my kryptonite.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Blake068
I am an aroace ftm trans guy. I like writing, art, and listening to music (My favorite artist is Benny).
View all poems →Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.