**Any italicized print is a literal quote from Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men. **
If you were so miserable, looking from one face to another, all closed against you,
why didn't you leave?
They only saw the you they wanted to see:
the exhibitionist leaning against the door-frame so that your body was thrown forward.
‘You ain’t wanted here.’
They wouldn't understand, wouldn't see the hopeless plea for a conversation.
‘Jesus, what a tramp.’
You weren't supposed to hear the whispers behind your back.
You writhed to be free of judgment, the little mistake that led to the fatal flaw.
Even so, you pleaded.
‘I ain't doin’ no harm to you.’
But the constant loneliness must've hit a nerve,
for desperation caused a turn for the worst.
Something swiftly snapped inside you that day,
when the others accused you of whoring around, scowling down away from your eyes.
The others ignited a vehement flame in your heart.
The sour words you spat grew worse, like a collecting avalanche rolling down the mountain.
It was far too late to stop.
Segregation, the others called it.
No. It was more. It was isolation.
And you were so desperate.
Surely you must've known then, must've seen the undying hatred aimed at you.
Any spark of hope was forgotten; the everlasting fire was gone.
You could've left before. You should've left before.
So why didn't you just leave?