Ruptured
When I felt I was under
judgmental power,
it worried me.
Those causes
brought me running
down the hill straight home
sit by my desk
hold my pen write,
while listening to the sound
of the clock chiming,
with a hope,
when I leave my chair
my life would change.
I was once a woman
of style shinning,
yet they judged me
as a tedious unreasonable
unpleasant unqualified
for their society.
I felt once unique universal
they judged me,
as an undesirable person
with no feelings.
I felt once as a tenacious
and tender woman,
I was judged as superficial
sullen suitable only
to suffer.
I once felt talented with tact
but they saw me
as a talkative
stubborn woman
uncreative.
I was once welcomed
well known well bred,
they judged me as vulnerable
with no vitality unlucky
worthless,
a zero.
I felt once I was a warm
warm hearted woman,
today I am washed out
weeping, unwilling
to fight back,
as my insight withered.
I am wounded weak
because of them.
At the beginning
I was always right
today I am always
wrong.
Therese Bacha
7 July 2013
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