Back to School

Photo by Sc Stockraphy

Dread infused poundings of the heart
Propel me away from the torment
“Shit brown girl,” I am called
I cry.
“Why don’t you ever talk?”
I cry.
Dodgeball is just an excuse for them to hit me.
Rocks. Bottles.
I hit myself instead.
I cut myself instead.
I want to kill.
Them.
Myself.
Just to escape.
“Ignore them,”
The adults say.
“You’re as flat as a billboard,” he says
After an awkward grope during a slow dance.
Steal my flute.
Steal my books.
Failure seems to be my…