In Public

strangers strangle me
from across the room
their company
a suffocating suffering
searching for comfort
in an ugly skin
the only place I have
to call home

home is where you
hate yourself the most

and I just want to
be a ghost
to the monster that is
the public
with their eyes and hands
and mouths and bodies
leaving me weak
left weeping
when I am alone

a spineless turtle
exposed with no shell

I am shedding like a snake
with no skin to replace






Angela Bachmann
© NOTA, Spring 2016

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