Everybody cannot be wrong

When I was young,
I'd be horrified if I
couldn’t fit in, if I

wouldn’t gel with

my peers.

A group, a team,

a gang of untrained

bullies, important,

to be humored

all the time; it was

a game I wasn’t ever

good at.

I slowly became

a loner, then a loser.

As days went by,

my capabilities were

tarnished, I was defamed

by every single friend;

they were all speaking

the same language,

selling the single story

about me.

It was tragic, not any less

than being violated

in public.

As a child, I recall,

I’d go into depression

if my perfumed eraser

was snatched away from

my school bag. Now, it is

laughable, no longer

relevant.

Everybody was

a scary machine in all

my working days;

much later, I realized,

it was nobody.

Everybody was

as needy as I was,

like them, I also had

a family to feed.

Thrown out in the open,

none heard my voice,

my version, no ombudsmen,

my savings burnt my fingers

because my unaccommodated

disability, lack of people

skill made me a prey,

an interesting kill.

Right or wrong,

old or young,

loner, loser, or lover,

now I know that

everybody matters

as little as nobody.