Some Scars You Got in Middle School

Some scars you get in middle school will never fade.
They will hurt at odd hours.
They will come calling in the middle of the night like your bachelor friends,
begging to be taken out.
They will visit upon you when your guard is down and lights are off and resting.
Memories like headstones,
Granite and epigraph for you to overlook except in peculiar lighting,
The flinch you
feel taking off your shirt for the doctor,
a small drum in the rhythm of your morning headache.
There--
The squeak under the great hum of adulthood, barely audible, but there, something hanging over it all,
Something foolish you tell yourself to forget about in the blurry mirror on those funny days
When you feel younger
And more dramatic than you normally are.

Growing up is nothing more than staying afloat on choppy waters
Between isles of percieved crises.
But sometimes, when the weather clears, there you are,
A mirage of yourself back in the day
Like looking at a photograph come to life
There you are,
Traumatized by self awareness,
Senses hightened to stay alive in the social jungle
The survival machine you became and then fell out of
Learning to run faster than the slowest among you
Learning to bite or be bitten digging scars on someone else to replace
The flesh dug out from yourself.
The wave comes and you are swept out to sea,
Forgetfully.

I’m supposed to tell you it gets better, and it does.
You will not fear the bark or bite of others
You’ll learn to substitute the arms of your mothers
And in the balance falls the beauty your poets’ hearts will have made,
But some scars you got in middle school will never fade.