I found out at a very early age
I knew about it all my life
I grew up with it; I got used to it
But when people find out
And they doubt
They make fun, they make accusations
It’s not nice it hurts
They don’t understand
It’s alright for them; they don’t have my problem
It’s not really a problem
But you feel as if you’re not wanted
As if no one cares
You know they do
But you feel it all the same
It’s all down to one person, and their stupid mistake
Joanne Kennedy March 1998
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