A Tie

I'll stop feeling frustrated for that tight knot that I wear like a tie

A manly hand on my shoulders and on my tights

You wouldn't call them that if I were much smaller

Like a child whose innocence was cut from core

Bolsters, blankets, hugs and kisses from strangers

Place my sense of disconnect out in plain sight

A five-year-old that grows into a 25

You wouldn't call it that

The ancestral learning

Like a tie

So strong that it feels like home

Concrete, wet grass, sand

Sting my feet equally

In a restless dance

A lighthouse in the distance makes me feel like there's a chance

But it's always the lighthouse keeper that spots it first

And like a child

I'm left with patronising words and the world's entitlement

I watched everyone getting everything they could imagine

How come they know what they want?

A wooden bench in a courtroom doesn't make me feel calm

My earliest misplacement is never to be spoken of

And I'm at war with a system that cannot serve like it should

So I'll stop feeling frustrated for that tight knot that I wear like a tie

A manly hand on my shoulders and on my tights

You wouldn't call them that if I were much smaller

But I'm not

But I'm not

But I'm not

Will you let me be forgotten?