Photo: Simple wild life by Lucía Ferro
A poem about the past
I woke up
tired from last night.
The breakfast doesn’t go down
through my irritated gut.
I am nauseous.
I throw up,
ready for the bus
to pick me up.
I sit alone.
I don’t want to chat.
I want to sleep but
I have things to think about.
Today the bully will strike,
and no one will hear me shout,
even in a crowded playground.
I can’t wait to come back
to a home where I can cry.
Instead, I found a house
where no one would hear me out.
It’s time for me to grow up,
and I just learned how to add and subtract.
And again comes the night
with another fight.
My mother is angry
because my father is drunk.
Fatigue is settling in.
I am no longer a child.
But, hey, at the end of the day,
today, I survived.
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