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.