Seventeen

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She's seventeen

and can already tell

you everthing

about self destruction.

She can tell you how

to dress frech 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 her.

She's perfected

her fake smile.

And she's been taught

-- Oh so painfully

to build her walls up

high, to keep everyone out.

~Depressing poems 3Where stories live. Discover now