We have superpowers,

like waking up daily,

sometimes getting dressed,

managing schoolwork

despite so much stress.

We are the best

at being alone,

and wearing long clothes,

and no matter what

keeping our mouths closed.

We have painfully learned

to avoid interaction,

however benign,

and to keep our thoughts inside:

"This is the last time."

We use our superpowers

for seeing in the dark,

for staying awake,

and making our parents

think it was a mistake.

Who but we can say

that they battle themselves,

and pay the price,

and get used to no one

ever being nice?

If it's not magic,

then it must be skill.

We've used up our lives,

devoted to trying,

trying our hardest

just to survive.

How brave we must be

to face so much pain,

with nothing to lose

and nothing to gain.

We have superpowers;

we're perfect at lying,

impeccably hiding

so many secrets,

so heavy and deadly.

In face of our hardships,

our struggles, our fear,

we still manage to live

and say we want to be here.

Year after year we

convince them we're fine,

really just biding time,

hoping in vain for a saviour.

We watch all our classmates,

and teachers and bosses,

breathe effortlessly

to the rhythm of telling us,

"I understand."