I am a young boy.
I have parents who hate me.
I am subject to cruel and unusual treatment at their hands.
I am often punished for no reason.
I bear marks of physical violence.
I have been blamed for all the ills of life.
I am seen a waste of space and money.
I know not of anyone else.
I spend my days in the basement.
I wish for better circumstances.
I know they won’t come.
I hope I am not noticed.
I am vermin.
I hide from them.
I run from them.
I evade them.
I hate going to school.
I fear physical punishment.
I am unfairly targeted by my teachers.
I am reviled and mocked by the administration..
I am the unknowing victim of psychological torture.
I am the subject of experimentation which I do not understand.
I resort to counting the beating of my heart.
I ensure that I am alive.
I evade cruelty in the stalls of the washroom.
I stay in the tunnels in the school.
I crawl through a labyrinth of malaise.
I inhale the dust of necglect and the cobwebs of abuse.
I try and stop the bleeding.
I am dying.
I am dead.
I do not exist.
.
I am at this house for the last time.
I put on my plastic coat.
I leave my torturers behind.
I advance down the avenue.
I hum a rhythmic tune.
I march on.
I live on.
I depart.
– John Valentine