You Don't Know Shit

You don't
give up every time you fail,
stop reading your mail,
feel constantly afraid,
endlessly betrayed.

You don't know
what's said behind your back,
what confidence you lack
when you're off track.

You don't have to check you locked the door
seven times, or more,
feel chained to the floor,
not walk on a crack,
avoid wearing black.

You're not
panicked by the dark,
anxious in the park,
sectioned every year,
made to face your fear.

You haven't
lost friends when you're high,
been forced to live a lie
(and I mean Forced),
bought the shop,
gave away the lot,
heard voices in your head
wishing you were dead,
bit your nails until they bled.

You don't,
you don't know shit!

- by Prajna Pranab, 1998