he gave me a cunning fox smile
and i lost it

that desperate art kid who writes poetry in the dark
the little one in the corner, that's me

he was this god.
gorgeous, and funny
chaotic like he was a trickster, and i loved it

and now i'm alone
and hoping to see them again

every single last part of me knows that i never will again
that our already small time together was dwindling
and soon they'd move onto something new

i'm just a little tired
that's all

a tiny bit delusional
nothing else

i wouldn't worry about me
not yet, at least

my hair has started falling out,
and there's one too many canker sores in my mouth
my gums have started to climb back
revealing more and more of a yellow, throbbing tooth
i have dark circles under my eyes,
and my weight is no longer consistent
i'm tired
and can't stop crying
because this isn't just forgetting to shower anymore
this isn't just taking an extra long nap
because you're trying to avoid your problems
this is no longer a seasonal sadness,
i can see it on my face
and in my eyes

i was already half dead long ago
i guess my body just had enough waiting

i've started watching children's movies
because i can't take a big plot anymore
after everything that i've seen,
something more than a kid's plot makes a dull pain in my head

i've made everything light green,
so i don't overload on color
so that my senses aren't assaulted by the barrage of defiance
willing me to speak at it's unsightlyness

i've started shutting down,
going into to default,
because if i keep creating personalities for other people,
i might just explode

i've left everyone alone
because i can't be trusted anymore.

you can ******* try
to hate me more
i don't think that you'll be able to
but you can certainly try
how is that working out for you?
how is hating me,
and talking **** about me
and never saying anything to my face doing?
does it feel good to never have confrontation?
does it feel nice to know that i'll "never find out"?
because i can tell you right now that i will.

so you can try
with all of your might
to destroy me with your words
and i'll just sit here and take it
because sometimes it's hard not to

i don't know what to write
but i haven't run out of ideas
they're just all jumbled in my head,
one huge mess that i need to uncoil
but the wires in my head are too strong
unable to bend to my thoughts to what i need them to be
like i'm trying to build a sculpture
but the clay refuses to be worked with
turns to steel, which turns to rock
which then crumbles to stone

so, i've hit a rut in the road
and now here i am
writing to an audience who doesn't care for me
who don't really bother reading my poems
just to tell them, i don't know what i'm doing.
i hope you're okay with that.

what if i told you one of my teachers
told me that men wouldn't love me
if i didn't stop biting my nails
or that if i kept my hair short,
people would think that i was a boy
and that i should continue to care what they think
over what you like
what you want to do.

now what if i told you i was five when my teacher told me that?
what if i told you i was a child
when i was told i was undesirable to the opposite ***

what if i told you
that today in class
we had an argument about basic human rights
that we were arguing about how people who weren't white
or cis
or straight were less than human
and the people that defended them
the people who said that they were people
were called "the blue hair girls"
and criticized
and told that they were bullying
the teen boys who were being small-minded
simply for trying to explain to them how they're humanity
and how it's okay

what if i told you that i was told i would never make it
that my dreams weren't reachable
and that i should lower my standard
to be accepted
and when i pushed back,
they told me that i was a *****.
i didn't argue,
because i still believe them.

what if i told you that fathers could steal their daughter's virginity
and still be notified that she was getting rid of the baby
that he placed inside of her
that he still got a say in where it went
and if she could actually get an abortion

what if i told you
that people thought it was okay
to be cruel and god awful
and say that it's all because of what the bible says
because jesus said that it was wrong
that people got away with years and generations of sexism
and racism
and homophobia
just because they thought the bible told them that it was wrong.

what if i told you i wanted out of this world
what would you do?
would you even care?
i don't think that you would.
you would move on
thinking that it would be weird
if you tried to offer your help.

what if i told you it wasn't?