Why should I care
If my useless parts hurt?
Why would It matter
If they fell off?
Why can’t I hurt them
If they are so wrong?
Why should I see a doctor
If they should rot?

In a way, I’m ashamed.
No one should have to see them,
Care for them.
Care for them like I never did.
They are dreadful,
Deformed, rotten, scarred.
Something so alien,
That I must rid myself of them.
They cursed me,
Cursed me to a life of deformity,
Self hate, disgust, pain.

By normal standards they’re useless.
They hurt, not even serving a function.
Barely aesthetic for a lover,
Completely foreign to me.
I hide them.
No one should have to bear witness
To this cursed form I reside in.
Free me from this flesh,
This broken, scarred frame.
Built wrong and improper.
With corrupt systems,
My crooked vessel fails.

Lexapro to be a pro
At a mastering the status quo
No one likes a Debbie Downer,
Do you have to be so sour?

Adderall not working anymore?
Getting up is still a chore?
Vyvanse might be what what you need.
Anything to help me, please!

Xanax for anxiety
And so it works reliably
Take it with hydroxyzine

Trazadone to help you sleep
Choke down a handful of these
Won't matter the amount
As long as it knocks you out

Let's try this, let's try that
Uh oh, looks like that one made you fat

Once we finish with the vat
We'll let you know how to get you back

Shut up, shut up, shut up!!
Can't you just grow up??!

Brushed off, brushed off, brushed off
A little something to take the edge off

Maybe you should meditate
But for now we're sending you upstate

Medicated since 15?
Have you tried a guillotine?

Struggle, struggle, struggle
Let's fit you for a muzzle

Sit down, sit down, sit down
You look just like a clown

We heard you the first time
Can't you ask without crying?

This drama queen
Can't get past what happened at 17
Crybaby if you ask me
Did you even hear her speak?

She's lost and can't be found
Let's show some mercy
Put this one down

there was a raccoon,
who wore a mask.
not because he needed to hide,
but because the mask
helped him see.

his mask wasn’t made of cloth
or leather,
but of his own eyes—
two dark, gleaming windows
that could look at the world
and become whatever he needed.

he didn’t wear it out of shame,
no—
he wore it because
it gave him permission
to be more
than he’d ever been told he could be.
it let him try on
every shape,
every name,
every possibility
he’d never dared to touch.

the raccoon was a thief, yes,
but he stole only what was already his.
his happiness,
his strength,
his soft little victories
the raccoon’s mask was not a disguise,
but a gift—
a gift he gave himself
every day
and wore like a crown.

because the raccoon knew:
you don’t have to fit
into what the world says you should be.
sometimes,
you have to steal your joy—
and wear it like a mask
that lets you dance
in the light
of your own making.

and when the mask came off at night,
he was still him.
and that was enough.

I dont wanna turn 18
I don't wanna watch
As all my dreams
Fade and fall
Into the dark

I don't wanna turn 18
Because i know
That once I do
I have to deal with everything
And even more
With the thought of losing
You

I know that once I turn 18
Everything that is easy
Is gonna become
So much
Harder

I have to apply
To get money
Just to survive

I have to beg my mom
To pay
For me to get help
Cuz otherwise
I'm stuck here for life
With no one
To take care
Of me

I have to deal
With the possibility
That I can't receive help
Or funds
And I just become stuck

And i have to deal
With the thought
That if you leave too
I'll become lost
And gross
Because I can't even shower
Or go out anywhere
If you do

If i do receive the supports
That i need
I have to apply
For so many things

A service dog
Money cuz i cant get a job
A careworker
And a friend or two
Because nobody simply
Just wants to be friends
With you when you're this broken

I don't wanna turn 18
Even though
There's more things I
Have access to

Sure I can now
Buy ****
And alcohol
And consume it legally
But I might fall on those
As addictions
Not once in awhile
Supplements
For fun

I'm spending my birthday with
YOU
And I'm happy to
Because I'm happy with
The things we do

But I fear
That may be
The last day
You see me smile
Or even breath
And if I survive
It may be awhile
Before I can truly
Say
That I'm
ALIVE

my body is a symphony of sounds
like the
             snap
               —crackle—
                                               pop!
                                of my bones as i stretch and climb the stairs,
                                                         ­                                        the
                     ­                                                                 ­ thud.
                                                           ­              thud.
                                                           thud.
                of my heart, frantic in its rest.
                a shrill ringing underpins it all
        when my ears ***** to a phantom sound,
the
    \gasping\
                               |huffing|
            ­                                      sighing
                                                   ­                   keeps the beat of uncooperative lungs.

               my body, like an old house where teenagers throw a party,
                                 finding a way to keep it alive for one more night.

physically I have no symmetry
and it doesn’t even bother me
my physical state is electrical
and internally I am symmetrical

a love so big it's my counterpart
symmetrically matching my flesh parts
an existence created as a work of art
able to outsmart any black heart

understanding this duality
is the best of you loving the best of me
and I believe you will get there eventually
to your own symmetrical mentality