It's you calling my name.

A name created out of literal " till death do us part " and Hannah's pain. It's a name born from a travailing woman's blessing and a new father's tears.

It's the sound of a rebuke from my loving father's lips thundering down the stairs like the voice of God from Mount Sinai telling me that he knew my sins.

It is the brush of my mother's consolation over y heart after that foolish boy at school called me "ugly"; my name.

 

But every time I watch it fly out of your lips like serpentine venom, I recoil from that former symbol of of love like a child singed by fire.

Now it's the sound of sizzling flesh. The umistakable shrill of horror when I look inside me after I have betrayed my father and mother by answering my name.

It's the pungent, acidic smell of rage when as natural as lightening follows thunder, invectives and insults follow my name;it's the shameful odour of not being good enough.

 

It's the taste of sliming pills with my name on it. It is rancid taste of alcohol to drown you out.

It is the taste of hot lead burning through your words faster than I can find a reason to live.

 

It is the image of me in the mirror not being able to look myself in the eye because as sure as I am that you are a liar, a wayward part of my mind still believes you.

"I'm fat."

"I'm ugly."

"I'm anorexic"

"I'm not ugly enough."

"I'm too poor."

"I'm dumb."

"I'm not poor enough."

"I'm not dumb enough."

 

I'm just not good enough.

 

It's you. It's you, "society", calling my name...calling me names that ticks me off.