Seven Years

Walking down the halls with its gray, gloomy walls,

Tripping on my self esteem, down I fall.

My heart dribbled and toyed with like a basket ball,

The best insulter gets the biggest award.

Sitting in class, surrounded by my thoughts,

Such a pain in my leg, what a blood clot.

My body, coated with sore knots,

Of words that slice sharper than a Hattori Hanzo sword.

They say sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me,

Yet cruel words cover everything that you can see.

My skin, my body, my ambitions, and everything I wanted to be.

But I got used to it, constantly ignored.

After seven years, here I stand,

I am no longer bland,

No longer susceptible to the clan.

I now know my inner value, for I am worth much more.

I am lovable and capable,

I cherish my self-esteem,

For without it,

I would not be Fenny Gandhi.