In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the hard work of a former student who wanted her club to feel loved
Thrown away and ripped apart just like our confidence.
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the scars on a kid’s wrist
Torn open and ripped apart until all of their pride bleeds out of their skin
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the suicides of my brothers, sisters, and siblings that don’t identify as either
Their memories tossed out and joked over as if their breath never breathed life into their former friends
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see another GSA meeting poster, ripped off the wall and tossed away
Because even our papers don’t get respect in these hallways