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A poem about growing up with fears of rejection |
| As I was growing up, my image was perceived By friend and foe alike, to be the ultimate gift received – It soon dawned on me, as I was struggling in school That being part of a clique meant not being a fool. I learned to face my life with a sense of care – Fortunate I was, and how I wished to be there; In a place like school, where I could make a difference, And be part of a clique, as a point of reference. As the years slowly passed, I never caught my breath; I kept bowing to pressure that was nowhere near death. My rightful clique saw me to be true at first glance, But I feared their disapproval, as well as getting the chance. For my few friends and I, there will never be a rejection More painful than the ones with no walls of protection. We simply grew older, caught our breaths, and moved on – And became less needy, because the need was gone. |