she's seventeen
and can already
tell you everything
about self-destruction .
she can tell you how
to dress fresh cuts,
in the dark with
makeshift bandages .
and which foods
are easy to throw up.
she knows a thousand excuses .
"I already ate."
"I'm just cold."
"it was the cat."
she's learned to hold
all her feelings inside.
until late at night
and cover her mouth
with her hand so
no one hears here.
she perfected
her fake smile.
and she's been taught
oh so painfully
to build up her walls
high, to keep everyone out.
