The Stranger who is Not Strange

Sat, 06/11/2016 - 10:55 -- Skyelee

Strange.

A word with no exact definition.

A word with thousands of meanings.

A word with your own interpretation.

A name with pain and hurt.

Even as you walk down the street,

The wind blowing through your hair,

A feeling of lightness, of happy,

Filling your entire being.

But then, there’s that one word,

Floating to you on the breeze,

A whisper, but loud enough to shake you to the core

A name with pain and hurt.

Odd, bizarre, weird, unnatural,

Freakish--

Words like knives, slicing, cutting,

Cutting to the innermost depths of your soul

Ripping, shredding who you are

Disfiguring you into something…

Something missing the essence, the personality,

The You.

Curious, queer, unexpected,

Eerie--

Changing who you are,

Losing all of the joy,

The unique, the special.

Disfiguring you into someone…

Someone you’re not. Ruining the wonderful person

You are.

Strange.

A word that’s wounding,

A word that’s said to hurt.

A word that’s mumbled in anger,

A name filled with jealousy.

While you may not know it,

You still can’t deny it--

While it’s meant to cut you,

It cut’s the other person too.

Jealousy is vicious

Secret, and hidden.

Even the best of us will be hurt

Somewhere, somehow.

It causes darkness inside of us

Taints our very soul.

Consuming our thoughts

Forcing us under it’s control.

You’re not good enough. See her over there?

You just don’t have what it takes,

You’re different, you don’t fit in.

The victim of the green eyed monster

Turns from prey to predator

Pouncing on every opportunity

To make others feel the way you do.

It gives you a source of power,

Seeing others who hurt,

Making you feel stronger

And adding fake self-worth.

Feeling invincible,

Knowing that you’re not alone

In feeling alone

Knowing that others have problems too,

And not recognizing that it’s you

Ripping, tearing, shredding,

Until they’re as disfigured as you.

Round and round this cycle goes,

Never-ending path

Loops around, until

You’re back.

Back to the prey

Of a ruthless predator

Hunting you down

Just to make you hurt.

Snickering in the hallways

Laughing at your mistakes.

But all the while they’re hurting,

You can see it in their eyes.

Strange.

A word with no exact definition.

A word with thousands of meanings.

A word with your interpretation.

A name full of pain and hurt.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Our world

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