I’ve hidden behind dumpsters, in alleys,
And under the schoolhouse steps
But Mr. Ted always finds me
And puts his hands up my dress,
While squeeze-squeezing my breasts
I would tell, but I want to live
And I’m afraid Sue Ellen’s dead
He used to give her his “gift”
Before he took me instead
And made me lick-lick his head
As I get older I’m pushing blades
Into my scarred up wrist
Somehow it makes the reality fade -
Cleanse- cleansing the dirtiness
Of his eyes, his words, his fists…
With a little more bleeding, I could be free
And sailing towards the sky
Never to see or feel his need
Poke-poking me against my thigh -
Thighs of steel are a lie
Would anyone miss me if I died?
Would anyone care besides Ted?
Would Mommy finally acknowledge the lies
Bleed-bleeding the water bright red?
Or would she again, bury her head?