Painful with words; mouth is dry
Her heart beats with the time of the pounding drum.
Longing to be one of them, surrounded by that jolly crowd.
But, holding her own counsel close, not daring to make a sound.
Her stomach clenches and unclenches, fifty times- quite certain even more.
Thoughts struggling for air, but she too scared to let them fly.
Fidgeting with the nearest speck on the wall,
Arranging the table condiments, ten times more than she must.
Watching the rest of them laughing with unaffected ease,
While she, like a fly on the wall, steps off an inch.
Then, when fear of the unknown predator, yanks her back to safety,
Burying deeper, deeper into herself- a wall fifty feet thick.
Can a fly on the wall become a butterfly?
Flitting from blossom to blossom, with the grace of a summer breeze.
No more trapped in a world where she hides her truest self,
But sharing with the world the joy of her amazing singularity with the greatest of ease.