ghosts ran down the halls
i heard their footsteps
echoing
echoing
echoing
in my mind

i hate the word cried
and the implication of that word
but i cried
because those ghosts
reminded me of what i could have been
and do not make me proud
of who i am

my confidence
is in shambles,
scattered across my bedroom floor
every broken shard
telling me that i’m stupid
“you stupid,
dumb,
ungrateful,
naive little girl.
you are NEVER
going to amount to anything more”

and sometimes those ghosts
become real
murmured quietly (unrelenting)
from the lips
of friends
of strangers
of teachers
of demons
ripping at my being
and telling me i’m not worthy

but i am
I am
I AM.

and who the **** is to tell me that i’m not.