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Flying
My hands flap at my sides
A bird trying to fly
Unable to get off the ground
Still hands, they tell me
What is she doing? ask the other children
My flapping continues like a rhythm
The beat is conducted by my anxiety
The racing of my heart perfectly lined with my flying hands
Weirdo, retard, gross, disgusting,
I am that kid
The one with no friends
The one no one wants to sit next to.
The one who gets pulled out of classes by teachers
Who are supposed to help but
only trigger anxiety and further ostracism.
Everyday at recess
I spend the 15 minute period alone
On the swings
Trying to fly.
I'm a caged bird,
wanting nothing more than to be able to fly away.
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