Deserving

I’m 12,
Tommy kept me home
From school.
Mom’s at work.

There’s a familiar
Type of tension
In the air,
Thick.

Stale cigarettes,
The stench
Of his breath.
Fear.

I’m a coward,
I dont even fight
Anymore.
Does that mean
I asked for it?

I’m looking at my body
From above my bed.
I’m looking at myself,
Disgusted.

Fight Dammit!!
Scream!!
Whats the point,
No one cares.

Maybe I lost
Consciousness,
I dont remember
What happened
At the end.

It’s over,
I lay in bed
Crying,
Wishing I was
At school.

Have you ever
Looked in the mirror,
And hated every inch
Of yourself.

Have you ever,
Wanted death
More than anything?

Oh, how I loathed life.

~Carrie Labiak ~