Do You Hear Her

It’s her Birthday today—

They don’t keep track

In a culture that’s more about building houses than making homes

Always growing out and never growing in

She has only a fake fireplace

As a candle. No cake.

Confetti.

The shrapnel of a broken family.

She sits in her room with her door locked

IPod in to drown out the domestic abuse she never passed out as party favors.

All of the silences when they aren’t around.
 

Do you hear her?
 

She sits in the back of the class

She has seen too many masks and heard too many fake laughs.

She lost her own long ago.

Leaving only black eye shadow

Like paint

To cover her empregnant eyes to deep for any other color
 

She wears hoodys and bracelets

Failing to hide the shame of her scars

Refusing to be called on

Too many people have walked on her opinion

Her wings are clipped

She no longer believes in flying

Just getting by and...

Hoping that she only has a little while left

Before she finds a decent way to die.

Searching for the right last breath.

One as dissatisfying as her life
 

Do you hear her?
 

She speaks with the scent of alcohol in the  stagnant air

Dripping herself out of her wrists

Longing to cover herself up

Fully convinced the only way was drowning.
 

She is tired of being wanted like a victim

For her waking up is something

Breathing, not nothing.
Every second she makes a burdened and conscious choice
To re-enlist in this debauchery of life
Only out of fear
Not dying is her life
The passion is dying away
 

You sit in the front of the class

Making bad jokes

Whispering your loneliness away.
 

She hears you.