It’s like I’m five again.
That’s how you’re treating me.

I may be quiet,
but that isn’t always a good thing.

You wouldn’t listen to someone
if they constantly yell orders.

Nor would you listen to someone
who tells you how to live your life.

I know I’m being hypocritical.

It hurts me to say that
and it’s not something physical.

Hear me out though, before you chat.

I think you’re amazing
but you don’t know me.

I don’t want the judgments
that come out of your mouth in thought out phrasing.

I don’t want the pity stare.
The one you use to show you understand.

I don’t want the butterfly touch.
The one you use to prevent me from shattering.

I’m not in Elsewhere
and I’m not aging backwards.

I’m not five again
although I wish I was four.