iron bar windows and it's
dark outside but i can see
everything, even if i don't
want to. the pain in my stomach
and arms and legs and
whole body is like a bug bite
compared my heart.

cleaning up and it reminds
me of some sort of cinderella
story only without escape or
rescue or relief.

i wrote another letter today
another cry for help that someone
might read when i'm dead,
but probably not. with my luck,
i'll never die.

ask me why i'm here
ask me why they've put me here
ask me anything because i haven't
talked to anyone in
days.
i've never been so alone.

she compares me to a bird in a cage
and she's right
if you never feed a bird and make it
clean your house
she's completely right.
but i have to ask then,
if i'm a bird,
did you clip my wings?

they beat me again,
but that's okay.
at least I can
feel it
feel something
anything at all.
at least tears are salty.

i feel dizzy,
lightheaded and
the vacuum is hard to
push across the ocean
of blue-green carpet.
it's soft against my
cheek when I fall.
it's all black now.

i see white and gold and
glitter and i'm sore and
i can't move or speak
or even try to.
mom,
dad,
are we there yet?

she asks me if i'd like to die,
i'm scared,
am i going to hell?
i lied and said,
no.
i don't want to die.
(yes i do.)

i couldn't move again today and
he beat me for it and
i didn't notice.
feels like i'm encased in snow
and frost bitten and the
cold numbness is creeping
in slowly like a
spider,
blissful.

it's cold out.
but i'm
warm and
i don't hurt and
my heart's healed and
everything's light,
light like snow in
spring,
but i'm not cold
and my wings aren't clipped and

i can fly away now.