he laughs
comparing me to a
gargantuan creature
ugly
lumbering
jovial
because i laugh it off
if I didn’t laugh
wouldn’t I be the only one
at the table
that didn’t get the joke?
I’m not the spoilsport
I’m not the joke
when they reduce me to my body
like I’m irrational, mindless
i take it as a personal challenge
to mind less.
I mind less
who tells me what
what my body entitles them to comment
Unless it really hurts
and then I know
I’ve lost.
i cry to myself
my empty mind fills in with colour
of blood and neon
im desolate
im desperate
not to lose my handle on myself
to not begin to think
to reset the ugly emotion
coursing through my
mindless existence-
what’s one battle lost
when you have a war to win?
Stormy Skies by Suradha Iyer 