Pussy

is that how others see me

a coward

filled with anxiety and trepidation

too fearful to exist without

 gentle coddling 

mewling and cowering

while others filled with an innate sense of bravery

defeat the foes of my mind

reaching places I cannot go

for my feat are stuck to this ground

Fearful and Pitiable

my reputation precedes me

my gaze centered on the ground

my words falter

my mouth makes no sound

quiet

overdramatic

hiding constantly

while others seem to suceed

I will never escape this misery

for I am a bird with wings clipped

Singing to a hushing wind

silenced and stuck

to wither and live

a meaningless life

while others fly on

to new destinations and joys

I remain 

Powerless

some malformity 

lurks inside of me

irreversible it seems

I hate every part of me

it stinks of this silent disease

invisible yet you will see

once fate deals you the blow

of witnessing my cowardly way

awkward and inept

a Mr Collins

a fool that others laugh at behind their hands

whispers flowing behind my back

too stupid to realise every slight

Pussy 

you call me

no more accurate a label there could be

I try and toil to wrench it free 

but there it remains a part of my identity

Seemlessly linked to every action and manner of me

Emblazoned on my forehead for all to see

invisibly and yet conspicously

silently, soft spoken I may be

but the whispers that surround my visage

repeat it ceasselessly

I, Pussy