Facade

I see you still.

The face you showed the world

I never did enjoy.

Such sweetness, kindness,

Love was not for me.

Resentment, anger, malice

Was my lot.

Forced upon you from my hour of birth

I should have been a boy.

I hear you still.

Vitriolic words pour from your lips.

I cringe, awaiting violence

Saved only by the trill

Of sweet interruption

As the world calls for you.

They hear your sweetness,

Never guessing at the bile

That lies beneath the surface of your smile.

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© 2015 by Phoebe Wilby.