I don’t understand

how it can be so bright outside

with sun and breeze and gold

while in here it is so dark.

I don’t understand

how it can be so cold in here

with mould and stone and grey

and how my hand can sting so much

from only three cuts

and how I had the courage to make those three cuts

when everyone tells me not to

because cutting means depression

and depression means suicide

and suicide means death

but it’s not

that

simple

I’m bad

I’ve never been good enough

nerdy

ugly

selfish

stupid

they remind me I’m a failure

and this is my punishment, it’s that easy

for being so wrong

the blood is right

I used to never, ever

want to fall in love

I saw it as disgusting, petty,

kissing and sex

I loved my parents

and my family

and my friends

but “that was different”, I insisted

I didn’t and never would like anyone “in that way”.

Something changed.

Of course, I know –

hormones,

surging through my body on puberty’s back

in an angsty, hot tide.

but the crush

Is a crush love?

Love is elusive, evading definition,

slipping through your fingers as you clutch, clumsy

at bloodred strands

“A strong feeling of affection”

is one definition,

a toddler-fisted definition,

at a firefly.

True love –

the notion that two

were made for each other

and so follows the notion

that there is something greater, something knowing

a celestial matchmaker

Is there someone

for everyone?

Or are some

fated to be always alone

solitary, no matter where they search?

We,

muddied humans,

are like snorting pigs, or the embodiment of ignorance

We name it, we try to shape it

and bend it to our beliefs

this great expansive soft-settling skin-thrumming emotion

–  none of us really understand

for we are the toddlers

with firefly jars.

It makes no sense

because you tell me I am wrong

and then you hate me for being right.

I don’t understand

why your minds can’t grasp the fact – it’s not my fault

I didn’t ask to know things

if you have to blame someone, blame luck, or fate

there is nothing I can do

I have pretended for you

I have kept my head low and marked answers I knew were wrong

just so you would stop

stop it

then they told me I would fail

And that’s all your fault. That’s all

your fault, because you hated me for being right

for knowing more than you did

It’s not going to change! I can’t

keep marking wrong answers for you, my future is on the line –

and I know you will hate me for it.

You might, in your twisted minds, even find a way to hate me

for knowing that.

And that is it, that is why

I will stop

- you will hate me no matter what, nothing will change that either –

and I will hold my head up, and you

you will have to deal with red marks on your work and green on mine…

maybe this is cruel, I don’t know

and I don’t care any more.