The words play back once and again,
Each time remembered just as hard.
I reach out, numbed, and shut it off
Feeling suddenly far too old.
This is a form of self abuse
To let simple words wound this way,
And so I try to ignore them,
But no despair just goes away.
I've spent my life standing apart --
Once (and still) from being too shy,
Later from knowing who I am.
Coldly restraining angers cry,
I bury that hurt deep inside:
This stranger's words have caused me pain.
My "tendencies" are part of me:
I must give such fools no more gains,
Give them no childish pleasures.
I will not let these words cut me
But grow through pain to understanding:
Nothing can change that I am me.

- Josh MacLeod, 2001.