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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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 Don’t do it, please don’t do it I have nothing left of my former self I was never blessed with fingers, kneecaps, or toes Just a thin, squamous flesh casing around the brain And muscles you throw back to my brethren After you caught me, You held me captive in a box Frigid enough to strip Norwegian caps Of their subzero notoriety That was when my eyes still worked Inquiring crystalline lenses Swimming in a shallow, gelatinous putty of iris Fearful of the journey that awaited them I’ll never forget how you Threw me in an open metal coffin Where the sun’s flares licked me from below, Strips of my skin became branded and Forced to turn from a Sakura pink to a deep ebony This became a personal offense, though, When you disgraced me, Smearing salty casein byproduct All over my skin, Sending me gliding, Circumnavigating the edges of this Round torture contraption Now here I am: cubical, Decapitated, and shamefully well-seasoned Awaiting the final stop on this round trip to hell Where I will be consumed by gastric fluid Likely neighboring a starch root And flushed away with a basic liquid refreshment If only I were a catfish Mustachioed and high enough in mercury content To make you rethink your murderous agenda Olivia C is a writer from Tennessee. She is passionate about poetry and entertainment/social journalism. She can be found editing/writing for The Teen Magazine, TeenInk, and her personal blog the Cyrus Piece (https://oliviacyrus.wordpress.com/). When she is not watching football, she is learning how to cook roti, procrastinating, and dreaming about learning how to play the jazz flute.
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