#ash's posts

eyes to the ground, iron grip on your clothes,

don't look left or right, don't be witnessed, don't witness at all,

building a tall wall of isolation in an ivory tower made of shit,

"You don't belong here!" burned in every side eyed glance

a hefty gaze rested into hairs that stand on end

repeated like a wave through the room.

Some girls know that feeling, that odd one out,

stood under a crumbling ceiling fast approaching termination,

call it adolescence, call it puberty, call it "the best days of our lives,"

call it dysphoria

either way it's caving in.

Some girls know how to sit at the back of the changing room

with a threadbare stare like someone stole their minds,

counting the seconds to escape,

to stand blissful in the neutral warmth of the cold school corridor,

to run until your lungs fill with blood,

to suffer any agony less humiliating than this,

to stood burned by their stares.

To wait.

To wait.

To hear the bell ring.