ARRO

Picture a lunch table full of melancholy twelve year olds.

  She was one of them.

She smiled and joked with friends at school,

wearing stained and torn clothing,

  but eating a hot lunch all the same.

At home her mom labled her fat

  and commented on her "slutty" makeup

without stopping for air.

Her brother was needlessly cruel

  and laughed when she broke her ankle

  and had to wait for two hours for her mother.

 

She and her friends went on Kodak photoshoots,

  or paticipated in petty crime,

  to evade boredom.

They'd steal, mainly. Catfish their friends.

She needed to feel something.

They couldn't save her from herself.

She fell. She keeps falling.

 

I'm so fucking sorry.

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