The “THING”

There is a part in me

That feels I am different from everybody.

 Something that they can’t see,

Something that they can’t feel,

Something so unreal.

But this ‘thing’ has always been there,

This ‘thing’ I will never share.

So I have made it a habbit of Pushing it to the back of my mind,

Among the thoughts of boys and clothes

And make-up, this ‘thing’ always find its cozy corner

Whatever has caused this feeling

Must have been so disgusting and bad.

A lost memory or something else,

Whatever the THING is,

I know for sure, I

 can never let this feeling show.