You are
the girl who sits in the back.
Not by choice nor by desire,
but merely by default.
The classroom is suffocating,
but luckily, the back row is
your sanctuary.
So they presume.
You with an arm so broken,
an eye so blind,
a mouth so mute,
why is it that you are
who you are?
Your urge to speak is incessant,
yet the words remain pressed
to the tip of your tongue.
Every so often, you try
to breach the brink of silence.
But your arm, already broken,
is crushed by the hands
in your teacher’s
nearest line of sight.
Your eye, already blind,
is shut by the looks
of judgment from
your classmates.
Your voice, already mute,
is stolen by the uproaring
babble in your class.
Its a ring on the bottle
type of game.
You know the answer is D,
it’s y=mx+b, its ATGC.
But in the end you know
you’ll never speak.
You are invisible until
tasked with a group project.
Unseen until
requested for answers.
As time passes,
your voice sours.
The words once
cradled on your tongue
become nothing but delusions.
What can I say?
After all, you are just
the quiet girl in class.
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