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learning, told by growing pains
August 27, 2022
I am six, and I am
crying at a funeral
that I do not understand.
I will learn, soon,
but now, I am trying
not to make a monster
out of my ribs. I am
trying, and I am failing.
I am faking, smiling as
my mother talks. my
teeth are yellow, crooked
at the bottom. I close my
mouth.
I am fifteen, and I am
lying. I am barely breathing
in my hand-crafted mask,
and I am suffocating, slowly.
I am older now, grievously
independent. I am still lying,
through clenched teeth I
scrub every day, as if
I could turn them white
by force of will.
© Anonymous
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