your hand is your
friend. The hand
that touches you softly, as a band
rocking the pain. Fingers squeezing
as a little red accordion strike
as a black scorpion if someone lifts
the rock you're hiding under.

When you're the only
you talk to yourself. You're
the only ears that listen The prose
are dressed in suits and ties blocking
out your mother's cries.

When you're the only
you're lost in your head. Your teachers
complain you're out in space. You can't
paint a smile on your face. Your eyes glazed
as a honeydew. Your feet are crullers
that don't fit in your shoes.

When you're the only
you fit out. All the boys and girls
have brothers and sisters. You have
yourself. So, you create the scene
of vampires and witches that drink your blood
and dry the dishes.