Calico Frost

Everybody's excited.

It's summer, after all.

I lie in my room, terrified of the pool parties,

The farmers markets,

The ice cream,

The fun,

The outside,

The friends,

The library.

Look at me.

Again.

Sitting in a wreckage

I made with my own two hands.

Hours—

gone.

Dreams—

I screwed up.

Again.

Same damn wound, reopened—

blood and shame mixing,

staining every step I take.

I'm tired of putting on a show 

I will learn this time.

I am stuck, really, 

Her anger spilled in cruel phrases.

Flipping through pages upon pages,

Memories, but most of other people.

Our yearbook committee has been infiltrated,

And you can tell.

I am not represented here.

None of us are.