You walk by.

You don’t understand.

You think it’s just a building.

A thing to look at.

A thing to use.

Sometimes I feel like that building.

Something to judge.

Something to laugh at.

They say,

“Oh she’s ugly.”

They say,

“Oh, she’s stupid.”

These things don’t just pass me by.

They stick.

They hurt.

This never stops.

It hasn’t.

But I try.

And I definitely won’t stop that.