each day
the sun crests over the thin
shadowed line, the narrow streak breaking
the dawn,
blurring the entities into a mass
of unexplainable colors.

each day
she rises
lays her feet gently on the bare
wooden floor
lifting up her head
hearing the soft hum of her blank mind
she pulls the precise stitiches
of the chamomile sweater over her head
raises it above her mind
letting it fall to comfortably settle over her laced shoulders

bracing
she reaches for the weight of the bag
heaves it over her back
her strong shoulders accustomed to the pressure
yet surprised by the pounding of the weight
that presents itself every morning
the bag that bears the weight
she must carry and assure
each day

the school doors
towering and small
beautiful and flawed
push through them
walk fast
nothing is wrong
nothing is different

they judge
they have no mercy
the fakeness in their tone
the ignorance that presses into their voice
and settles there,
digs into their words
wraps like a coil on her mind
refuses to let go

they press against her thoughts
cowering her perceptions
she bows her head
stares at the linoleum floor
the shuffle of her shoes
the most fascinating concept of
this intimidating and suffocating maze of
a world she lives in.

their glances
their stares
the laughs they direct only at her inevitable flaws
pound into her heart
until she feels the strings of her mind stretching
too far
too taut
she shuts her eyes
as the strings of her mind refuse to stretch any more
withdrawing and snapping
her mind snaps
she feels the limp strings
beginning to regrow

she raises her head
and looks them squarely
in the eye.