found amongst emails in the process of deleting

by epi

a pockmarked mountain, i was raised under the abuse of sticks and stones and words in a world with low ceilings that did nothing to stunt me my body defied old mothers tales and I shot up, a hulking timid creature despite the coffee I guzzled hopefully I wore my shoes too tight, begging to be confined, imagining that the pressure might do something to stop growth counted calories, yet still I grew under the careful abuse of others afraid of someone my size believong in The del es I could do a

*edited*

a pockmarked mountain,
i was raised by sticks and stones and words in a world with
low
ceilings that did nothing to stunt
a body defying old mothers tales,
despite the coffee I guzzled, I shot up;
became a hulking timid creature
who wore her shoes too tight–begging to be confined, imagining that the pressure might do something to stop the growth that came despite
counted calories.
I grew up and out,
endured the careful abuse of others who
feared the damage I could do once i was big enough to
fight back
(not knowing it was words,
not fists,
that i feared more).

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