Not One of Them Was Me
I ever fit I was The Black Sheep
Not One of Them Was Me
They stood like they belonged.
Same smile, same silence,
like they’d practised it in mirrors
until it stuck.
One wore neat squares,
all edges, all structure.
A tidy mind, a sharper tongue.
Never forgot a slight.
Never forgave one.
Another, dressed in scales,
said nothing real.
Just shimmered and shifted,
talked in echoes,
borrowed truths from others.
Wore loyalty like a brooch,
clipped on, easy to lose.
The third,
wrapped in twisted diamonds,
tight and showy.
Always needing eyes on her,
but never really saw you back.
They called me
one of us.
But I spoke too loud,
walked too far,
laughed at the wrong time.
I didn’t match their patterns.
Didn’t beg for place.
And when they closed their eyes,
as they always did,
they didn’t see I’d already left.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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