Shame

Makes you feel

small, invisible

clawing at your skin,

trying to dig deeper so you stop feeling it

hiding behind your own shadow

hiding from your reflection in the mirror, lakes, or a beloved eyes

your eyes never leaving the ground

wondering whether the sky is still blue

following your own foot steps

apologising for bumping into something, someone

a pole, a sign post or them

forgetting what you look like anymore

knowing too well what you feel like

you wear your inside outside

or was it meant to be the other way around

do they really mean ‘you are beautiful’

don’t they see the shame lingering near you?

on you. all the time.

since the day you were born

or is that an exaggeration?

then why does it feel so familiar, like breathing

why won’t it leave you

when it is not yours to carry

it never was

it belongs to those who raised their voices, their hands, their power

their greed, their lust

it belongs to those who lowered their morals, your expectations

while you stayed silent

thinking you couldn’t shed it

like it was here to stay until one day

one day

you dreamt about dying, all alone

in that grave, six feet underground

covered top to toe

with nothing but a white shroud

nothing, remember, nothing

no shame. and you wake up.

washing yourself of other people’s shame