Stung

January 9, 2017 — Leave a comment

A random muscly guy turned,

Lit a little by the beer and  disco lights,

Asked me, What happened to your face?

Teen boys in stained white suits

Laughed

Hard faced girls

Giggled into cupped hands.

 

Not the first time

Someone had mocked me.

Had stolen my peace of mind

Thriving on a hateful slur.

 

That evening soaking up scotch

I searched for a little  self love.

Any time it appeared

It was stung by the slur

And  died.

 

When i woke up

In the morning

They had left me,

The odd number

In the dead disco

Alone with my blackout

In a tight corner.

 

 

 

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