05-30-2015, 10:05 PM
There are women whose laugh I’ve learned to hate,
needling at my pride as I stumbled through a joke
I never thought was funny.
I used to love some of these women,
as they tore my limbs from their sockets
in attempt to mould the perfect man.
I used to cringe when their eyes met mine,
shrinking at the thought of inadequate wit, looks, or standing.
I know what I am –
and there are women who laugh with me
at the stupidity of my jokes,
the blemishes on my face,
and the silliness of a man with no limbs.
needling at my pride as I stumbled through a joke
I never thought was funny.
I used to love some of these women,
as they tore my limbs from their sockets
in attempt to mould the perfect man.
I used to cringe when their eyes met mine,
shrinking at the thought of inadequate wit, looks, or standing.
I know what I am –
and there are women who laugh with me
at the stupidity of my jokes,
the blemishes on my face,
and the silliness of a man with no limbs.