Under Review
Metamorphosis
Sat front of class, vision blurred
focussed on the blackboard,
lined up for rounders, cackhanded
last to be chosen,
What makes a teenager?
Sat in the shade, watch others play
avoiding sun burnt skin,
lined up for lunch, pale and quiet
desperate to escape. Sanctuary
books and music call.
Where is the child who played tag
hopped and skipped, held dolls teaparties?
Where is the child who had adventures galore?
Where is the child with androgynous looks
taken for a boy after acting in a play?
Still here. Look deeply, the child is here still
lost and alone.
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