The Words

The words

tranny

sharpied onto my forehead

like a hot burning brand.

I was the cow.

I was the meat

sent to slaughter.

I was the milk

that was stolen.

I was the meal

on the table.

My peers were the butchers

and school was my slaughter house.

Shredded muscle,

torn out eyes,

a last moo on my lips

and handfuls of hamburger in my grasp.

They don’t think I’m human.

Questions that puncture my organs,

rip out my kidneys

and burst my eardrums are thrown at me.

Slices of meat

slide off my ribs

and onto their plates,

fake smiles

and politeness as they eat me,

fresh blood on their mouths.

Maybe this is why it’s called bullying,

because the victims aren’t even considered human.

They consider me a cow,

a coward

who's obviously

A woman.

-Jude Jackson