Scrutiny

As a young boy, I felt a certain sense of nudity,

A sense of self that could be construed, a sort of lunacy.

An expectant state of being judged rather brutally,

A sense of shame that left me void of any dignity.

I felt this way amongst the people I called my community,

And that whenever I appeared, they would leap on the opportunity,

To target my presence and shame my flaws with eager ferocity. 

Now, no longer a boy, I still feel this way with much regularity,

Wondering what could have been, if not for this disparity.

And from this state I desire to wage a zealous mutiny,

Yearning to be free from this state of prolonged captivity.

Will I ever break free from the chains of past hostility?

Will I ever overcome the damage of their spite, their scrutiny?

 

 

 

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