ETIQUETTE.

“Etiquette, etiquette, show etiquette! Young man!” They’d yell, while slamming the ruler against my hand.
My teeth ground together,
stomach sucking in,
my legs felt like jelly,
as my knees sunk
into bags of beans
placed beneath.
Another harsh slap,
to the back of the head;
“Show etiquette!” They’d shout again.  
And there I go, off in my head,
Where there’s a warm bed,
soft blankets, and a nightlight,
to warn all my monsters away.
I don’t feel the rough skin,
of their palms on my face.
I don’t feel the sting,
or the tears that fall,
from my eyes.
Their words ring silent,
 over my minds comforting hum.
Etiquette, Etiquette, Etiquette, be fucked.