As little kids
We were taught how to do many things
How to use our words
How to express ourselves
How to glue things
How to build things
How to cut things
We were taught how to do all these things
And over and over
Because "Practice makes perfect."
Right?
We were taught how to do all these things
So we could use the right words
So we could use the proper amount of glue
So we could cut straight lines
And all was well
And as time went on, we practiced the same things
Though each year they added new things:
How to be responsible
How to be respectful
How to be in public
And they taught us all these things
And they said:
Cut out the toxic
Remove it from your life
Oh, and we learned
We were taught to express ourselves
To be individuals
But whenever we stepped out of the molds
That were built for us
There was a warning
Yet all was still well
And our molds were disguised
We were taught to see the beauty in life
And in our molds
There was light
And we were shown what we wanted to see
But the light was artificial
And outside the mold there was only darkness
And it was learned
That society had a big rug
Which they swept everything under
And there were things never uttered
Except behind closed doors
Where no warnings would be dealt
And as we got older
We knew
What not to say
The words stayed bouncing around
In our heads
Like mocking voices
Anorexia
Self-harm
Anxiety
Depression
Suicide
Addiction
Pain
And we were taught to express ourselves
Yet every time we tried to say the words
We were warned
And silenced
And we were taught how to be in public:
To be composed
That no matter how upset you are
Others wouldn't know
Yet we wonder why someone is dealing with something
And they are doing it alone
Yet we wonder why someone is quiet
And only utters how the feel in the dark
Yet we wonder why there are white scars on wrists
And they are straight lines
Yet we wonder after every suicide
"Why would they do that?"
"Why didn't they say something?"
And we stay in our oblivion
Wondering
And it is only
That once it has happened
We feel "sorry"
And we put on our masks of sorrow
And we start talking about the words
And we give ourselves a pat on the back
For "talking" about it
Even though it is short lived
-Just like the life of the person
Who's name we will forget in a month-
And then we go back to judging in our oblivion
And we go back to wondering
"Why do people cut themselves?"
Huh?
Don't you remember?
You fed us the toxic
And told us to remove the toxic
But it is inside of us
Yet you stay wondering
"Why do people make themselves throw up?"
"Why do people cut themselves?"
Remove. The. Toxic.
But all is well
Right?
January. 27. 2018
