You may be wondering, 

What could it be?

If I use it what would 

happen to me?

The answer is nothing.

It is only poison 

when you say it about me.

She.

The word cuts me 

like a knife.

She.

It slowly poisons me,

It slowly kills me.

You say it 

because of what you see.

But did you ever ask 

If it was okay with me?

She.

It’s like a punch

to the stomach.

She. 

They all repeat.

She.

She.

She.

I am now on my knees,

crying in my hands.

Whispering,

He.

Please, he.

It’s he, please.

They lay a comforting hand on my shoulder

and whisper

the poisonous word:

She.

I fall to the ground,

Defeated.

When they say my kryptonite.