It was a beige Wednesday

A pale grey sky

The cold sweep of air punctures the lungs of people who breathe

Expanding their rib cage

They exhale fumes that are toxic

It climbs through my ears  

Making my throat burn

Making me hallucinate

It is that time that is supposed to be spring

But is a stitch in time that has come unraveled

Time is bleeding grey

Time is cold

Time is the ringing in my ears

Time is the yelling in my ears that no one else can hear

Their eyes are as pale as ice

They melt like ice

Ice cold eyes melting turning into hot tears

Their hearts turn to cement

The door is sleek and cold

Metal thick and locked

It opens and i walk

My fingers and toes

Are aching

My middle finger is marked

By the frozen ring on my finger

The ring so cold it burns my skin

Permanently scarred

My hands are pale blue

My jeans are gainsboro grey

My shirt feels like burlap on my skin

My nails are short

Don’t remember biting them off

But i do remember that feeling of his hand

Pulling my heart through my rib cage

Like a paper shredder

Shredding my passion  

Pulling my creativity

My hand goes to my face covering my eye

my cheek is wind burnt, tingling, chilled

My eye lashes feel wet as if i was crying

My lips are dry and frozen

They seal the cage that holds all warmth and passion

That cage is made of chalk

I grit my teeth

Locking my jaw

Not on purpose

But out of fear of rejection and judgment

Because of what may come out of my mouth

Concrete floors

Ash brick lined halls

Cinder block classrooms painted white

Echoing of the sounds of inward sobs

Crash through the walls

Like a rock through a glass window

Yet the walls explode inwards

It reaches its hands out towards you

Clawing the floors

Leaving scratches on that thick layer of concrete

From the heavy chains

That are required to keep its cold hands in

My vision is narrowed

To the end of the hallway

But it never ends

We all walk in a uniform line

Lined up like the links of a chain

Bounded to each other

Never given a choice

Some links are heavier than the others

But no one bothers to help

Or care or notice

All forced to sit in rows of desks

As they lock the doors

And bar the windows

It is the pure imprisonment of passion and creativity

The one place that teenagers don’t think they’re invincible

But they think they're invisible   

The place where all the ice cream dates and hand holding turn into

Rape jokes and potential harassment

Where death threats are made as jokes

Where ‘counseling’ is made a ‘treatment’ for alienated feelings

Why don’t they open their eyes!

“Why do you think mass genocide or suicide is the answer?”

“Don’t you like being like everyone else?”

The signs are everywhere!

What you call ‘High School’

We call ‘Hell Hole’