All day long,
there are explosions all around me.

Some times they're blue
or yellow or green,
orange or purple,
and even some new colors that I never knew before.

Mostly they are red,
and always they stain my clothes
and mark my skin

And at the end of every day I take the debris
and pile it around me.
On my desk, on my bed.
On the floor and stacked on shelves.
Neatly put away,
or strewn about chaotically.

I hold on really hard,
and struggle to keep my door closed
to keep it from spilling out
to keep it all contained.

The explosions make me think.

What's left afterward makes me think.

I think about why this and why that and why them and why me
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

The more I ask, the less sense it makes.

And so when it's too early in the morning
and the sun hasn't yet risen
I use all my pent-up energy to clean my room.
I don't pay attention to what I throw away
I just want it all gone.

And after, when I've let everything go,
I lay back on my bed
and let out a Deep Breath

There are a few hours left until my family wakes up
and the explosions start again,
so for now I will stare at the ceiling
of my debris-free room.
and think
that everything is Okay.