It's Still There

Another day, another class.

I can’t handle this difficult class anymore.

There’s something on my hand

I have to get it out, it’s bothering me.

How can I get through this class if it’s still there?

 

Oh great, there’s some speck in my hair

I have to get it out right now,

Along with several hideous hair strands.

I can’t concentrate if there’s something wrong with my hair.

I can’t live life as a hideous girl with disgusting hair.

 

I know the professor is saying something important

Did he say something about the upcoming exam?

My pen and listening ears have become irrelevant.

My hands have a more important job to do.

And it has to get done right now.

 

Is class already over?

I’m not finished fixing my skin and hair.

I see people getting up and leaving early.

I only see one thing aside from my class notes.

And it’s a tiny mountain of everything I took out.

 

And I realize there’s a river flowing down my face.                                                  

 

I must not let anyone see.

I must not take off this mask.

I must leave class now.

 

It’s after class and I need to go to the restroom.

I suddenly find myself being whisked away.

A classmate pulls me to some center on campus.

I have to fill out paperwork and wait to be called.

But who is going to listen to me at last?

 

I hear my name called out.

Out comes a person clad in white with a clipboard.

My mask has crumbled, but it’s still there.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741