Wounded

His subtle insult hits me
like an electric current.
The laughter in the classroom
echoes in my head,
so I only faintly hear
the two tiny voices
rise in my defense.
I am paralyzed;
the words I wish I were strong enough
to voice
are locked deep inside my chest,
I cannot force them up my throat
and out my mouth
to give him a
SLAP
on his pride.
Don't insult my name
like that.
I got it from my father.
He died last year.
Do you have any idea
what it's like to lose a parent?
Do you have any idea
what it's like to have someone
insult
the person that you loved
so
much
that you would have
died
to have them be with you just
one
more
second?
But the words
will never come.
The tears start
and blur my vision.
I cry silently all day
and all night,
even while I dream.