is there an end to this darkness

or will I forever stagger on the path?

is there a will where there is a way?

if so, i want to know.

 

my father says i’m cursed

my mother barely calls my name

an abomination of sort, she says

mr. miller in school believed her.

 

I received the end of the stick 

well, that went okay

i am upright, easy going

she likes to add: uptight.

 

now, i barely remember christmas

the scent of warmth and cookies

only a waft in Mars—

red dust, no air, no sound.

 

i watch joy from behind the glass 

i've learned to hold my breath young

to nod when silence scrape my skin

and laugh just enough to be ignored