It's hard to see
people growing in pain
like plants among thorns

Like the girl
who had running as
her drug of choice
cuts on her shoulders
trying to release her pain

The boy
who talked with his body
his freshmen year spent
sleeping to avoid
emptiness

The girl
with cat eye makeup 24/7
who tried to drown herself
an effort to escape
her maze of self-criticism

The boy
smiling as he talked
despite scars on his wrist;
a nearly permanent solution

The girl
semicolon on her ankle
asking me each morning:
"Why can't I die?"

I remember them all
the stories they gave me
the pain they confided in me
storing it in someone else
like a rusty file cabinet
in an abandoned room