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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() You were born Under silver rings and frigid white. You were born Against a wall With quiet eyes Screwed in like lightbulbs. Are you hungry, A deep aching pull In between sinew and snapped bone? Are you cold,
Under ice water lakes, Slurped through a plastic straw? I think there’s a monster Buried under this house. It scratches at the floorboards, Roars at the cellar door. It’s hands twist around soft hair. It’s hands dig into muscle. Are you scared Of the shaking, screaming walls? Are you good At slamming deadbolts into place, Twisting door knobs til they snap? These walls and silver rings, These corners you never left Aren’t strong enough to keep your hands steady. These glaring lights Aren’t strong enough To keep your shadow from sewing itself To your wrists, To your jaw. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
November 2023
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