I have fought long and hard
for my self-worth.
I will not give it up,
not for nothing or no-one.
Behind this guileless exterior
lies a steel rod.
I am not to be messed with.
I will not lay down
to take a mouthful of crud,
swilled down with horse-shit
and a big dollop of how’s your father.
I will not be sniffed at,
sneezed over,
coughed on.
I will not be spat on
from a great height.
This backbone of mine will not squelch,
will not fold in on itself,
will not curl into a foetal position
in the face of exhorted attempts at my denigration.
My dignity is rock solid.
Arrows bounce off this impervious exterior.
Nothing and no-one will get past
the perimeter of my mind
to cause untold damage inside.
I know who I am.
I am proud of who I am.
I am who I am.
I protect who I am.
This protectress is the strongest part of me.
The part that stands up to fight
when the chips are down.
The part that refuses to accept scattergun accusations.
The part that surfaces once in a blue moon.
The part I’ve always relied on,
when I’m in a tight spot,
with my back to the wall.
It sports a Kevlar jacket,
with Doc Martin boots,
and a Boadicea shield,
yet it has a pink fluffy boa
around its collar.
It won’t take any punches,
nor does it hold any prisoners.
All the best parts of me
are rolled into this one,
corralled into action,
at my most strident.
It’s the cast iron core of me.
I will never give it up.
************************
This poem was conceived during the Wild Dark and Passionate, Level Seven of my writing classes with Jules Swales.
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