Gali

I’m tired.

Not “need-a-nap” tired.

Not “school-was-long” tired.

I’m tired in a way that reaches all the way down to my ribs.

I don’t sleep much anymore.

I stay up listening.

Not for music.

Wisps of smoke flick through the sky

a quickly fading whisper of what was

of what used to be

but not anymore.

Faintly glowing embers

tokens of the past

they fade away too soon

They won’t teach me how to be a woman— 
But they’ll notice when I’m not. 
Say I should smile more, try harder, 
Be brighter, quieter, 
Less me, more what they forgot. 

she walks into the room like a sentence that forgot to whisper

light brown hair pulled back in a way that says she didn’t try

but still somehow gets it right

clear glasses catching the light

it won't be flashy, showy, or

even remotely special to the untrained eye

but those who've suffered the burden of 

knowing me will understand why

my next trick is magical.

from the seventh grader who