An unwanted touch, over the hand or even a tap on the shoulder, 
A slight smile or even a mean comment, 
An accidental rub off across the breast or across the buttocks, 
Ensued a feeling of hurt, an impulse, travelling across the head, 
Through the touch into an ache, wanting you to hate it, 
Hate that touch, hate that part, hate yourself a little bit,
Prints left all over and along with a strained soul,
Deliberate or not, it hurts, 

Across the back, moving around, 
With that smiling face in front and seemingly warm welcome,
Still that feeling, feeling of that hand moving around your back, 
Them trying to forcefully hug and your heart just asking you to leave,
To go back,
Eyes don’t lie and what probably just intensifies this pain, 
Is looking into their eyes, too discomforting and harsh, 

By the side, another pair of eyes, 
Your own, nice ones, your discomfort reflected in theirs too, 
Suggesting helplessly to go away, not having the guts to confront, 
Suggesting the agony, conceding to the hate but faces still smile, 

Brain learns and grows, avoiding the touch is simple, 
Just avoid the humans, any care, or any contact, or communication,
Closed inside, straight neutral face, never looking in to the eyes, 
Missed celebrations, skipping any where, any place with those eyes, 
Never confronting, speaking it out loud about the hate, the discomfort,
Anyways rarely the person visits,
Once a year, all other days spent seemingly fine, 

Books still nice, not humans at least, 
Around the learning, a place so excluded, so detached, 
Still somewhere around creeping through the way, 
Behind the smiles, every day, slightly unnoticed by the eyes around, 
All young kids, difficult to comprehend, even for you too this time,
But that strain into your soul, speaking itself outright,
Seemingly normal touch, patting on the shoulder again,
Congratulating on the sum solved, slightly moving it around,
And somehow happiness nowhere to be found,
Just hate, resistance, for it go, go away somehow,
It is not rare now and tension just grows,
With this happening every alternate day,

But something changed, you stand up,
In front of all the eyes around and say it out loud,
To stop,

And with deceptive eyes, this person pretends to be victimised,
The discomfort caused, the uncomfortable everything associated,
Was just the way it was in your head, this person suggests,
But this time way beyond the threshold,
No feelings left to to considered or rethought,
With quite straight please stop said, no arguments heard,
Things turn out to be a little difficult ahead,
With all other eyes, looking you with undirected,
Unintentionally sad faces, some disbelieving ones too,
With this person, making the progress little deflected, too harsh now it seems,
But the strain on your soul just loosens up a little bit,
A little more comfortable, finer this time you feel,
Smiling inside, with heart at peace at least for some time,
On the way ahead, a difficult one, but truthful one forever!