Realization

I wrote this poem in middle school. It's childish and I laugh at it now, but it's the only poem I've written on this topic. When did you know?

(Be)longing

When I was 8 years old

I wanted to be one of the guys

More than anything

I wanted to belong in their world

Voices deep like grown men’s

A foreign language unknown to me

The sound of boards hitting concrete

made my skin tingle like a sunburn

Just a bunch of guys being physical

Light-headed from too much sun

Out of control and trying to impress

Their bodies a mystery to an 8 year-old

Butterflies dancing in my stomach

and something else

But I was too young to understand

what that feeling meant.

Broken

It's not the first time you're here, son
Words bleeding from my mouth
Coloured red like the stains on my clothes
Forcing angry tears to stay on the inside.

You have to give us names, son
Hands squeezing my shoulders
But there's no warmth in your voice
You say we're concerned, but I'm not your child.

I'm leaking memories
They're leaving my body like a spring flood
Grownups wearing forced smiles
Their faces look like deflated balloons.