I see you in class
Yeah you
With the brown hair
It was the 3rd grade
And I was speechless

In class I would dream
That I would share my PB and J with you.
You passed me a note in math class
Asking me if you could meet me at the flag pole
You wanted to give me a surprise.

A surprise?
A surprise!
What could it possibly be?
A kiss?
A PB and J?

I had to find out,
So after math class
I skipped across the halls
My eyes were glued to the flag pole

Where is she?
My breaths were taken away from the thought of you.
Tall 5th graders' shadows started to walk towards me
They have the eyes that told me to run.
I dropped my lunch box and ran
Into a 5th grader.
More started to come out of the evening shadows
These boys were out for blood tonight.
They started to push me around
Like the words that were being thrown around
Punches and dirt thrown in my face
Reminded me that I fell for a girl
I didn't even know
I wish I could have told you how I really felt.

These boys held me down,
Stripped everything that kept me sane
And crucified me on the flag pole.
The place I thought would change my 8 year old life.

Is this what Jesus felt like?
The feeling that I'm going to heaven
Were my corps would decay on the flagpole
This flagpole

After what felt like forever
These boys left me to the hounds called the night time
I want to barge out of my shackles
And scream "why, god!"
I start to cry away,
Away from here.

It's 2am
I'm staring in my bedroom mirror
I pray to the mirror
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Why have you made me mute after all?
The mirror just sits there in horror
Reflecting the mess I have become.

I start to look at my face
I see my red demonic eyes
Caused by the concoction of tears and dirt being kicked
I feel the cuts that burn from the lies
I told myself

I look at my frail hands
And see my ****** nails from fighting back.
I noticed my wrists were ****** from the crucifixion
I wonder to myself why didn't they **** me?
Just finish me off and let my prayers be answered.

Then I look at my chest
I see cuts and bruises
Scattering around me like the feeling of loneliness

I press ******* my cuts
I want to feel something
My soul was extracted
By boys who lost it
From a closed fist from a angry father.

I look at the mirror and realized
I am ashamed of who I am.