“You should be grateful

You sleep in a house with light,” you say

but i can taste the ash on my tongue;

feel the tar in my lungs;

my brother’s face is blackened with soot,

and we can no longer see

the Good Night Moon in the sky

when i tuck him in for bed

“You should be grateful

You have food to eat,” you say

when i choke on the blood you spilled to make it;

running sickly-warm through my soul.

i scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub 

but i can never get rid of the stain

“You should be grateful

For the convenience—

To use and discard at your whim,” you say

as you tighten the cellophane noose arou-

nd my neck,

and my feet begin to dangle

“You should be grateful

You have an education,” you say

after my third anxiety a-a-attack today;

after hiding my bleeding insecurities under my

sleeves (can anyone see the splotches?);

after my best friend buried themself

when you told them they aren't good enough

“You should be grateful

You can even be here,” you say to me,

the only girl in this science classroom.

you dress-coded me earlier for

showing my shoulders.

by the way,

my eyes are up.

“You should be grateful

That anybody loves you,” you say,

pinning me against the back wall

as i gag on your fingers in my mouth

and you pull at my zipper.

you don’t seem to notice

the salt drying on my face

(maybe one day it'll grow thick as a mask).

Yes, I should be grateful to you

grateful that you taught me

that I am on

my

own in this world

that you took the liberty of breaking, “for

me”

Thanks

For

Everything

Signed,

THE YOUTH