#bone black

When I grow up I cannot say what I want to be. I cannot say that I do not want to grow up. I am a child who is sad all the time.

At night, when everyone is silent and everything is still, I lie in the darkness of my windowless room, the place where they exile me from the community of their heart, and search the unmoving blackness to see if I can find my way home. I tell myself stories, write poems, record my dreams. In my journal I write—I belong in this place of words. This is my home. This dark, bone-black inner cave where I am making a world for myself.