Don’t reduce me to the puzzle piece
you find ugly and malign
And the part of me your narrow
typical mind can condone.
The puzzle piece I find ugly is the
ubiquitous blue design,
Alex Spourdalakis’ and Katie
McCarron’s mass produced
From its azure knobs and corners
drips blood only we can see
And I am not a mysterious
conundrum or tragic riddle to be
Set fire to the bigoted texts written
about children like me
And know we grow into adults with
internalized bigotry unresolved.
I am dismissed as if eye contact with
danger didn’t fill me with dread.
You think your degree gives you the
right to decide my identity?
Not that nor a family member nor a
psych class puts you inside my head.
How many letters must follow my
name before you will listen to me?