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Stop looking at me.

Stuck in a room of staring faces;

Each second ticks by in slow motion.

Clattering plates and chomping jaws mock me.

It’s like a poison in my brain.

I see them whispering, feel them snickering

But why am I the one they choose?

Their judgments cling onto me like a Boa constrictor

Squeezing and suffocating with every move.

Confidence oozes out of my lanky fingertips

Like toothpaste coaxed out of its tube.

I begin to seep into the contours of my chair

Desperate to fade from view,

To fade from their bellowing criticisms.

Why am I the one they choose?

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