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.