71

people who are supposed to make it better aren't and people that aren't supposed to be the cause of it are and I'm a child except only I know it all, not feel it all, I just watch it all, with one closed eye trying to make it half the hell, and I'm locked up, up in a place where the earth tells me it loves me with kisses sometimes but is breaking my skin open on every memory and maybe, and it's always when I turn my other cheek to lean on some familiar cold shoulder when I remember that I'm only made of the same thing as my neighbors and teachers and the people I like and the people I don't, we all have trouble getting to sleep at night and my fists won't let go of each other because they say that the other one is the only one who understands it lately.