When I was just a boy,
the little girl next door stole my toy
and locked it in her room.

When I was small, my big brothers
used to scare me awake,
pulling my shirt over my head
they'd point and laugh.

When I went to school,
the other kids would sneak up on me at lunch
pouring milk over my shoulder,
I watched it spill into my lap and now,

I'm not hungry.

After the mess was made,
the other kids ran away to play
and I was left,
holding the bag.

So now I get detention
a consequence for allowing
the mess to pour into me freely

Unwilling to go I stay
in doors and still,

they order me.

In the play yard,
they shoved me.
When I grew bigger,
tried to break me
My memories still blur from before.

I lay on my cot now thinking about how nothing is the same.

Pouring over memories,
Counting the differences between the four wall corners I see and the one I came from

the room that kept my toy,

laying in my cell
because I decided to push back.





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