Fifteen years old and pregnant
Just a child yourself.
Your big doe eyes wide
As you proclaim you’re doing what’s right.  

God will help you
He will lead the way.
This baby being brought to us
Will be in good hands.
For it’s not just a child
But soon to be grandmother and aunt

Should sting.
They should make you want to crawl out of your flesh prison.
They shouldn't be flowery.
Nor sweet, simple, and easy to read.

My words bite at your arm,
Like the truth of society burns your eyes.
These words are the venom in my bones.
T H I S  I S  M Y  P A I N
Feel it as deep as I was forced to at 8.

This is the truth.
My words may never be full of light.
But the world holds a flashlight,
And pretends that they can see.
I may be 'deranged'
But  a  t    l e  a s  t
I
C          A        N
S        e       e

Crashing against the rocks.
                Washing away the sand.
                             Weathering it to glass.

Depression is like waves.
                  And I am already glass.

I am so inexplicably scared for what lies ahead.
This is too specific of a dread.
What I do not know could **** me,
Yet I don't have a clue what I don't know.

I am sorry.
I can't imagine what my life could be.
Let alone what it looks with both you and me.