Cold draft
Metal sideboards
A green view
Wooden table oddly placed
A couple of chairs short
too little space
“there’s loads of big rough rugby men in there”
Panic, fear, and a ‘gulp’ feeling
Time passes, friendships made
Fake and forced
nothing in common
Nights wasted away
Health thrown out the window,
Personality faded
Metamorphosis gone backwards
Half a life amongst half lives
Progression and growth but only out of this suffering
How can one’s own perception of themselves suddenly come second to others
Men and men and men and men
Undermining my rights,
Yet only a means to an end
The means being the ability to get along with the class,
To get through the toxic environment
And one day remove the mask.
To be thine self and not shrink to their size
To have boundaries and space to grow
Surrounded by women and lovers and beautiful souls
To not have to fight for the right to be heard
To feel free to fly like a bird
The kind that I saw out that tiny slim window,
that held the key to the world if only it opened
That tiny room where I lived for six months was supposed to be a space to develop
And it was, just wasn’t what I expected
There is purpose in it all and I am sure beauty in all men,
I just wish this growth didn’t have to include pain
Men are depicted as strong,
But it is women who have to be stronger.
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