Lessons.

When you realize that every corner
has an edge, cuts deep into blank
flesh: blink fast and the pain doesn't
stop, walk slow and the blood still
flows, safely you are down. You better
kiss the ground.

When you realize how lies color
themselves on the skin: you close
your eyes tight, it won't go away,
the colors are bright and you scrub
down your skin, you're still a child
amongst liars. It won't be long.

When you realize dreams are the
most beautiful nightmares: you take
the blame and shame like a weapon to
destroy yourself, you cover the walls
and windows with darkness. You claw
onto time like a lifeline. There's none.

When you realize you are your own
and not part of something: you put
your limbs out of order, see what's
wrong, see the flaws so unique and
painfully stay awake knowing there's
no one to keep close. Biology tries.

When you realize pain is far greater
when it can't be seen: it breaks like
a wave on your stomach, grabs your throat
like an iron fist, you wish for it to
end, but it breaks parts of you that
were never theirs. Hiding is a must.

When you realize the emptiness that
clings onto every though is here to stay:
you try to speak in their language, force
yourself into living like them while your
brain poisons your blood and your cells write
only endings. It's still one thought away.

Keep those notes tight to your chest,
wrap them with blinding white, cover
them with blood, put your fists down
to chaos, and walk steady with your
heart pumping words: I know, I know,
I know, I know. We have not changed at all.