i’m bored of me.
i swallow pebbles, like my mom does pills.
if i witnessed my own meltdown, i would reach for a sugar cone.
one day i saw myself trip and i stepped over my tears.
i sleep with my corpse, which keeps me cold.
my chest rising and falling should be illegal, calling for an arrest.
i want to forget my own name. if i had one.
i would bring champagne to my own public execution.
if i crossed my path, a wives tale i would utter, stepping on a crack.
when i meet my own gaze, my eyes shutter, and both of me turn in shame.
i am the official measurement of ugly.
a saddened form, always failing to thrive.
i mock and jeer at me. i crush my bones. i am my own bully.
i dream of leading my own hunt, my tail between my legs.
i keep my enemies near, which is easy to do since they are my parents.
i am taught to hate love. i am taught to love hate.
i pinch myself often, hoping to find myself un-alive.

I am eleven,

My name is Your Neighbor,

And I have done nothing wrong.