We scream in silence;
shout to the void
in a hope we’ll ever
be seen.

But no eyes lock when you are looking away
so all that stares back
is the dark.

The darkness of our fears.

I go to my school’s
bathroom
and wash my face
with the cold water.
I splash it;
then gargle;
then spit it out.

Nothing but saliva
and tap water
comes out.
I stare at the porcelain, disappointed,
and lean over it again,
opening my mouth
in a hope I’d throw up;
spit my soul out,
drown my thoughts down the sink,
make my problems disappear.

But nothing comes out;
not puke,
not problems,
not thoughts.

My throat
is still
being pierced through— trapped
—by the claws
of the freedomless eagle
that my life has become.

It is silly, isn’t it?
How I tried to steep my wounds,
thinking my problems
would dissolve
along with the blood.

My shoulders relax,
my muscles lighten
as I let go of a load
and say goodbye to the guilt
that had been crumbling inside;
I breath out
and feel the relief
burn down my throat.

In a year I’ll be so light I’ll reach the stars.