she got hurt when she was 5 when she fell.

she was in her room alone, 

pretending to be ruler of the skies 

as she jumped off a cloud of comforters and pillows 

onto a hard wooden floor where she slid and

burned her knee.

her father answered to he sounds of her cries 

and he gave her a Band-Aid to put on herself.

she didn't understand the look of disappointment in his eyes as he walked away.

 

she go hurt when she was 7, when her bike lost balance.

as he handed her a screwdriver, dad said training wheels were for girls

and she needed to man up.

so she pried off the dented metal wheels

and relied on the two remaining  to hold her up.

she gripped her skinned elbow as tears formed

not for the pain

but for the fact that she could feel her fathers disappointment

as he watched with crossed arms from the driveway.

 

she got hurt when she was 8

when boys fallowed her around at recess 

making fun of he way she talked 

and the way she cried...

they punched her 

and threw her in the mud

calling her a fag...

teachers watched from afar in dismay

thinking to themselves that maybe this little boy needed a beating

to  knock him out of this phase...

phase..

 

she got hurt when she was 10

when her father caught her with her sisters lipstick.

she just wanted to feel slightly beautiful in this body she didn't belong to

but he tore it out of her hands

calling her a pussy and slapping her across the face 

screaming at the top of his lungs 

that she had better man up...

 

she got hurt when she was 13 after she confessed.

she pleaded that her father understood it wasn't a phase

and that this body she inhabited 

did not match her soul.

her father insisted she was too young to make that choice.

he threw a bible at her and told her he wouldn't have a son who was going to hell

he held her down as he buzzed her hair

and she let him

because inside she hoped for the sake of her fate 

he was right and that shed become normal with a shaved head and Jesus.

 

she got hurt when she was 15 and she held a blade to her wrist.

she found it in her fathers tool box.

the triangular slip of metal glinted in the moonlight

and let her forget everything 

let her be who she was

let her hide...

when the liquid emotions stained her wrist

she felt better

 

she got hurt when she was 16

forced to cover up her scars with jackets and jeans

trapped in a prison cell.

she was ignored

left aside

drowning in slamming lockers and grimaces in her direction.

she was just existing.

just breathing.

for the part of her that felt the need to hold on

was but a memory.

 

she got hurt when she was 17 when she fell.

however, this time she was caught by a rope

held up by a knot she learned to tie in boyscouts.