There is humour in the air,
I still don’t get the joke,
I donot understand the pun,
Feels strangely humiliating,
Like all eyes staring at me,
All men laughing and mocking me.
I talked and they heard a bark,
The candle lights but its still dark,
I walked, rumour’s I hopped,
It’s grief but I haven’t sobbed,
Its offensive,but I ain’t defensive
Yet they slurred in combative.
The skin feels heavy on the bone,
It seems I’ve been thrown,
There’s no cloth,modest to be worn,
’cause they’d laugh like its all torn,
I ain’t a gemstone, it ain’t a combat zone,
Only a plum-pudding stone,so just let me alone.