No Name

I told him, “no”.

He told me things I never imagined would permeate my temporal lobe.

These words were lies.

Don’t call me that.

That dreaded word,

it starts with a C.

Don’t call me that.

He’ll never see how it hit me like a homerun ball:

A solid win, pain spreading like The Wave.

I guess that makes him the champion.

I guess that makes me the loser.

Don’t call me that.

Even though it’s true,

Don’t call me that.

He tells me things that I don’t see.

He tells me things I don’t believe.

This new word,

it starts with a B.

Don’t call me that.

I’ll never be what he sees.

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