lets pour one out for the kids
who never quite grew into the
“mature for your age”’s and
“pleasure to have in class”’s,

glowing futures hanging from
bony frames like a shirt
a few sizes too big

the kids with molten
gold praise spilling from their skin,
beautiful and
searingly painful,
how icarus must have felt when
the wax ran in rivulets down his back
and the sea opened up to swallow him whole.

the world isn’t so kind to these cookie dough kids
whose edges dont quite fill
out the cutters designed for them
who have no one to blame but themselves
and no one to turn to either.

where do you go when you’re suffocated by
the shadow of places you could’ve gone?