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Image for the poem When You

When You're Small

(Wait until the sun goes down. Go out to the back porch. Light the lantern.
 Light a cigarette. Take a deep drag. Exhale slowly. And then write.)    
______________________________________________________________________    
    
"When You're Small"    
     
     
When you're small,    
there's no right or wrong    
just yet.    
Morality will come    
when it's explained to you    
someday. Maybe in therapy.    
     
For now, there's only pain    
and no pain.    
You learn that light is bad    
and dark is good.    
Because hiding is easier then.    
Because you're small.    
     
When you're small,    
you learn to lightly shatter    
the lightbulb overhead    
in your room.    
So that it's dark.    
And so that the pieces fall    
directly underneath.    
Hoping they will cut their feet    
when they come.    
And after, maybe they'll change it.    
You wait, wearing your shoes    
even in your pajamas.    
Maybe run, while they cuss    
and bleed. It's evidence    
that they were in here.    
During the wrong hours.    
     
Someone will believe you.    
This time, you just know it.    
Words aren't proof.    
Blood is proof.    
     
When you're small,    
you don't want to go swimming    
with the other kids.    
No matter how hot it is.    
Because you feel cold,    
standing only in    
your swimming suit.    
Too much skin, exposed.    
You can't cover everything    
with your hands.    
Someone will see something.    
Think something.    
Know something.    
Maybe say you're guilty, too.    
Even though you're so young.    
     
But so far, all you've done really    
is be born.    
Hoping your legs grow,    
so that you can run.    
But so far,    
they still reach for you,    
grab you, without leaving their seat.    
     
When you're small    
they take your underwear    
out to the burn barrel.    
It's evidence    
against them.    
Maybe burn their own    
if they had to hurry    
earlier.    
     
And soon, you're left to explain    
why you ran out of underclothes.    
Just say a mess was made with them.    
It was an accident.    
You take the blame,    
on your own.    
     
So you go without.    
And when the one    
with the big feet comes,    
(You try to never look up)    
they're really mad.    
This time, it's really    
going to hurt.    
No more coaxing    
like the times before.    
     
Maybe you black out,    
even though you're awake.    
Maybe you understand    
one transgression of theirs    
at a time.    
Of course you don't.    
So far, all you've done    
is be born.    
     
When you're small,    
you find things of theirs    
and sneak them    
to the burn barrel.    
Their keys, their money.    
Pieces of power they have    
to get away.    
You're small all right.    
But you're maturing    
one slab of darkness at a time.    
     
When you're small,    
you realize that prayers don't work    
for some things.    
You realize, sleeping outside    
even on the roof    
is safer.    
They'll never think    
to look there.    
     
That there's no such thing    
as afraid of heights.    
It doesn't compare    
to fear of other things.    
     
When you're small    
and on the roof,    
you stare at all      
of your neighbors' houses.    
At their lights    
going off and on   
...  Then off.    
     
You wonder,    
is it the same for kids    
over there.    
You wonder,    
do they, too,    
sleep with their shoes on.      
     
~~~    
Written by Styxian
Published | Edited 19th Jan 2023
Author's Note
Be the difference, people. The world runs on empathy.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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