My hands flap at my sides

A bird trying to fly

Unable to get off the ground

Still hands, they tell me

What is she doing? ask the other children

My flapping continues like a rhythm

The beat is conducted by my anxiety

The racing of my heart perfectly lined with my flying hands

Weirdo, retard, gross, disgusting,

I am that kid

The one with no friends

The one no one wants to sit next to.

The one who gets pulled out of classes by teachers

Who are supposed to help but

only trigger anxiety and further ostracism.

Everyday at recess

I spend the 15 minute period alone

On the swings

Trying to fly. 

I'm a caged bird,

wanting nothing more than to be able to fly away.