acts of communion | Teen Ink

acts of communion

August 4, 2023
By bugjuicepoetry ELITE, Fort Wayne, Indiana
bugjuicepoetry ELITE, Fort Wayne, Indiana
223 articles 28 photos 11 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I was born very far from where I'm supposed to be. So, I guess I'm on my way home."


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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