Remember when how you stood in front of the class

Lectured endlessly on the psychology of the mind

Compressed pain into tiny, sterile words

Depression and self-harm and anorexia,

Cleaned up into Times New Roman textbook bold,

Write the vocabulary words on your notecards, stupid children.

Could you see over your pulpit of knowledge?

Down to where I curled into the unforgiving arms of my desk,

Begging for escape from the barrage of words

One finger tracing the raised scars on my hips,

The others digging into my palms to keep from screaming.

Did you see the fear in my eyes, the pain spilling out?

Did you even bother to look up from your prefabricated notes?

Psychology right in front of you,

A perfect basket case study trapped by the bell,

Forced to listen to the drone of nothingness

That you, text book teacher, think my pain should be.