I have grown to be the golden child Always perfect, never needy, never faltering A savant bird in a silver cage that I weaved myself To keep away the critics and the doubts. I rose to the bullies and built myself an Olympus Of books and art and friends that would flatter my intellect And considered that “growing” Moved overseas, and called it “learning”. Today I look back on my empire of rust My crown torn in half And I am scared of the violence I harbour Scared of becoming the bully.