Mother and father stand over a
bright pink crib,
screaming, cursing, crying
until he leaves,
never to be seen again.

The toddler sits in the corner
curled into a ball and
covering her ears as her mother
towers over her and yells in her face,
blaming the young girl for her problems.

The girl stands in front of the mirror,
red cheeks, timid smile,
conscious of her too-baggy clothes
and messy hair.
She walked to the bus alone.

That shirt that used to reach her knees
fits her properly.
She feels more like one of her peers.
But her hair is still knotted
and she still squints because her
mom never took her to get glasses.

Her mother is shrieking that she ruined her life
for the thousandth time that week.
She walks out the door, but not before bruising
her cheek and
shattering the mirror on the door.


That night, the girl took
an old blade to her wrists and
fell asleep in a pool of blood.