I tried too hard to forget,
But your words still found a place
Under my pillows.
Your hollow comments
Writhe under my bed;
I eat your abuses for breakfast.
They taste salty,
Like my teardrops.
Every night, I used to sing goodbye songs
To the horrifying high school memories;
I had wrapped them in a blanket
And had thrown them out of the window.
But when the clock struck 3,
They entered my house again
And slept next to me.
My grandmother used to tell me stories
Of the madman
Whose eyes were as red as sunset
And skin was purple as of the color of an old bruise;
Who carried a hatchet with him,
And chopped the heads of people at night.
The dreadful memories look a lot like the madman,
Of whom I've heard stories.
Your abuses crawl under my ribs like spiders,
And bang their heads on my bones.
They howl inside my body,
Squeeze my lungs.
I have spent half of my childhood
Memorizing
1001 ways to deal with bullying.
But I swear,
Not even one out of the thousand and one could help me
To get out of your grip.
But darling,
I'm a warrior.
I've stitched my wings
With the golden thread of courage.
I'm all set to fly.
I promise,
I will not fall;
Not this time, at least.