I look through boxes for thingsI want to keep, taking out thoseI need, leaving in those I don’tNeed or want. Then suddenly I see,At the bottom of the box,A word.

It’s a scary word, a horrible word,A terrifying word. I don’t want that word.I don’t see why I’d ever want that word.I close the box, but on the floor in frontOf me, there I seeThe word.

It creeps closer. I start to run. Imagine!This disgusting word chasing meAway from the box, out of the room,Into the hallway. I look behind, and there,Still chasing me isThe word.

I trip on a memory. The word catches up andBefore I can stop it, it jumps in my ear. I feel itSlide into my nerves, settle in my brain.I crouch on the ground as the word sendsVivid images and pains.That dreadful word.

Eventually the word quiets. If nobodySays anything it just sits in my brain,Sending me occasional sparks of electricity.But one day, as I simply exist,Someone dares to sayThat awful word.

The word fires a jolt to my brain.I jump up and run away. Running andRunning and running from my own thoughts.But there’s no escape. I wonder why I everWent and foundThat stupid word.

But the most distressing thingIs the way other peopleCan say it. Without flinching or hesitating,Without lying down and dying,They simply say—somehow they can say—The word.