heartbreak from a boy,
heartbreak from a girl
and heartbreak
from the 76 genders of the world.
we are the generation of the broken
and what is more frightening to know?
that we don't know when it started
or we don't know when it'll end?
these are things that i wish
i didn't dream up in my head.
a one bedroom
one bath
prisoner camp
that isn't as free,
i hate that i only feel
when it hurts me.
the first hurt
cause after that
i couldn't form words,
running back to a family
i felt i joined to desert.
mother took me back,
treating me like an adult,
cooking breakfast
for the sad man
who sleeps in the room
with one eye open,
looking for another equal
who looks out for the same,
not gaining a penny's day of wage.
the cold i felt before
began to feel warm,
like a hollow cone,
shaped to form a body,
finally melted off a cast.
i felt i could breathe again,
not to sing with another person's air.
it was as it had been long before,
just me all alone,
nothing but black
and no memory to suggest
that anything ever happened.
