this little fight

forbidden words

i am a good, pure child.

i speak no wrong, my plate clean of swears and full of vegetables.

i study and do all of my homework, and i stay away from boys and girls.

i am a good, pure child.

except in the dark of night my eyes wonder to new places where i snack on cusses, choking on tears and stress, my lungs fill with naughtiness.

no.

i am a good, pure child.

the neon glow of my shining smile somehow masks the yellowness of my depression; fills the cavities of my anxiety. i brush my teeth three times a day and floss twice. can you tell?

i wash my mouth with mouthwash and practice my perfect smile in the mirror as i wipe the tears sliding down my cheeks and floss my teety again.

i try to pry the little bits of forbidden words from the crevices of my gums and scrape the dirty from my teeth.

i sit on the floor in my own saliva as i scream and scratch at my teeth, yet somehow i scratch off the white and the cavities and yellow appear once more.

i stand up and put on teeth whitening strips.

i am a good, pure child.