They secretly hoped I’d fall

And break my face

Because I walked so happily 

And proudly down the street,

But when I did, they couldn’t bare

To look at me, and guilt prevented them

From coming out to even offer any aid.

And that’s because we’re all connected,

My love for them, their hate for me,

My ups, their downs, my fall from grace,

Their momentary hubris as I ached,

Their guilt, my shame, 

The blame we cast to one another. 

But now I’m up and going on,

And I have this type of thing before.

My face will heal, and somewhere 

Somehow, they will remain 

Steeped in contempt, and they may never learn,

But that is neither here nor there,

Nor any yet of my concern.

I’m up, and I’m going on.

-jenn