As I was growing up, my image was perceived
By friend and foe alike, to be the ultimate gift received –
It soon dawned on me, as I was struggling in school
That being part of a clique meant not being a fool.
I learned to face my life with a sense of care –
Fortunate I was, and how I wished to be there;
In a place like school, where I could make a difference,
And be part of a clique, as a point of reference.
As the years slowly passed, I never caught my breath;
I kept bowing to pressure that was nowhere near death.
My rightful clique saw me to be true at first glance,
But I feared their disapproval, as well as getting the chance.
For my few friends and I, there will never be a rejection
More painful than the ones with no walls of protection.
We simply grew older, caught our breaths, and moved on –
And became less needy, because the need was gone.
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