She feels inadequate; she is another little ‘miss miss-shapen.’
They speak loud and they speak low, it’s this among many other things that makes her feel so, so.
Nights are long when everyday's a replay; its words and actions she tries to forget that she sees when she sleeps.
They act fast, they act careless, and on most days, now she feels reckless.
Careful, cautious, thoughtful: these are like cuss words to her bruised sense of mind.
She’s a danger not to them, but to herself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem