Laughing Stock

I hear their snickers
from across the hall
when they see me approach them.

I’m so afraid they are laughing at me
so I hang my head
and cover my face with my hair
so they won’t see my tears.

Maybe I’m just paranoid,
but I know they don’t like me;
I can tell their smiles are sincere
because they don’t say a word to me.

They just cackle in my presence
and pretend to be polite
but I know what they think of me.

I’m the laughing stock here,
a jester that entertains them
without realizing it
as they find reasons to hate me.

View metaphorist's Full Portfolio