That’s me there –
in the hallway –
hands in my pockets, I make myself small.
My eyes to the floor,
I weave my way class-ward
trying to blend in to the walls
Blend in to the wall,
blend in to the wall.
Do nothing. Say nothing,
’til I’m nothing at all.
Blend in – blend in.
Blend in to the wall.
Don’t touch me.
Don’t know me.
Don’t see me at all.
I don’t speak in class.
I don’t make a scene,
hiding out in my costume
of tee-shirt and jeans.
Don’t see me.
Don’t notice me.
Don’t throw me the ball.
It’s a game to play,
the new kid in town.
I’m not very good.
I can’t figure it out.
I don’t want to talk.
I don’t want to win.
I just tuck my head down,
and try to blend in.
© L. Rose
Amen, sister. But you were outgoing enough to show me around (forced, but still 😏). And then I got to feel the relief of knowing that I already made a best friend. ❤️😇😇😇❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Kel. I don’t feel quite so waif-ish now, but I was always aware of the tendency – and definitely still have those moments. The way I recall, if it wasn’t for you guys, I would have definitely been the waif. Thank goodness for reruns of Charlie’s Angels and enthusiastic post-analysis at the lunch table. 😀
LikeLike
I really like this. Powerful.
LikeLiked by 1 person