When Do I Get it Back?

One word.

One name.

My word.

My name.

It was my name,

Not yours.

I didn’t give it to you to use.

It was something that belonged to me!

My name was mine, but you took it way.

You used it over and over until I finally said

“What?”

It stays with you, ya know?

Your name?

You can’t just throw it away, not really.

It is your companion for the rest of your life.

It says this person is just the same as this word.

It says this word means this person.

And that person is me.

I had learned to ignore you.

I didn’t know much else to do.

I was just a kid, just a child,

Starting to find my way.

And then, as I took my first baby step into this big world,

You took my name.

You took the thing that has been with me since birth.

The thing that I thought would be more familiar than a blanket or an imaginary friend.

The thing that came with me on this journey,

Something that would stay the same.

But Oh was I wrong.

My name is something others use

It is something that others abuse.

And I sat there in my desk, afraid of it’s use.

Because I found out rather quickly,

That when I stepped through the middle school doors,

People didn’t like me,

They didn’t want me to “be myself” as I was told all my life.

I learned people would hurt you,

Just so they could have a few fleeting chuckles.

Just because you happened to be there.

And I sat there in my desk, afraid of my names use.

But this fear was mild,

For the teacher was teaching.

There was no chance to talk unless you decided you were willing to get in trouble.

And most didn’t decide that, so I was in the clear for the next 10 minutes or so.

But then, there was a knock at the door.

Mrs. H had to go outside the door she said.

She will back in a minute she said.

Behave she said.

But unless my definition is different than hers, that direction was not followed.

Silence lacked the air, well until you broke it.

My name. My name is all that was said.

From across the room you called my name.

And as my body tensed up, I kept my back to you.

My name. Again, it was said.

It was said through the silence across the room for all the class to hear.

My name.

My name.

My name was then repeated by all my classmate, with their eyes focused on me.

And finally, out of disparity,

I turned my back and said “What?”-- already knowing nothing good was in store.

And then without words, an action was done towards me.

Something I don’t even want to write.

Although no noise came from you, it was so loud the whole class heard it crystal clear.

And then the roar of laughter, as i turn away.

And the tears that threatened to pour down my face.

But they didn’t.

The teacher came back,

And class resumed,

So the tears had to wait

As the world didn’t even notice my pain.

It’s just a phase.

That is what I’ve heard.

It passes, this phase of cruelty.

Maybe for them it does,

But for me,

It took away my name,

It took away the comfort of it.

That day,

It will haunted me for eternity,

It’s the day I realized It isn’t good enough

To just be me.

But then what’s left?

I thought it was enough.

Why can’t I be enough?

Where is my name?

When Do I get it Back?