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acts of communion
I.
Leave the browned cabbage
in the basket, it makes no sense to save
a head with only a few leaves
Leave the ruined child,
she's always been so slow
it makes no sense to even try
when you know she'll stumble and fall
Leave the child,
all alone
fractions and times tables
and the Rolling Stones
Leave her wandering,
fumbling,
gasping for air
bronchial tubes swelled shut
fault not the girl when she can't spell
you see, it's the pencil that wrote it
she's trying so hard, this girl
she's screaming if you'd only notice
II.
When I was little I'd scream
BLOODY MARY
BLOODY MARY
BLOODY MARY
in front of every mirror
I was young and
dumb and
longing for death
and maybe I wanted to hold the hand
of something just as blood-stained as I
and feel loved -
to know you could be guilty
and still be loved
Bloody Mary probably just wanted a friend
III.
Well behaved children
lined up against the wall
Backs straight, eyes ahead
all except for one
I'm sorry I was always
such a problem child
couldn't keep my hands to
myself or my mouth quiet
While everyone else balanced A+s
such a pleasure to have in class
I was stealing money of my brother's
eating too much and
hiding extra in my closet
I was straight Bs in fourth-grade math
barely reading on level, no
I was never a gifted,
well-behaved child
But here's the trick:
You can't be a burnt-out prodigy
when you were never gifted
in the first place and
life always kills off the ones who have it perfect
IV.
Why does being your child mean
wishing that I'm dead
and have you ever considered
that maybe I'm not the problem
and it's you instead
and now I'm screaming at you
until I lose my voice
But it's all just pretend
cause I forgot how to speak
the last time you pushed me to
the floor and rattled my ribcage
my head's filled with fantasies
about me never coming back
about running away and not looking back
But my feet are rooted to this tile
until I make you proud
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