life is beating me down

i'm wearing down,

number two sandpaper

against soft, pale flesh


i think mommy would

be proud that i'm still

standing against the onslaught


life doesn't seem to like

me, favors the other girls,

gives them pretty dresses and new shoes


i wonder if god considers it

a sin to cry in chapel, if you-

-i can't pray, i think the sandpaper's back


and one day i think that my

mommy is going to come home

early in the morning just to find-


-just to find an empty bed

and unworn clothes on the floor,

and of me no trace left behind.

The End

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