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Poem

They clamor over you, demanding a fresh tale. 
You think back to your childhood 
Of the friends you'd made and lost
And you begin to speak.

You told a story of a kid who didn't understand the world
Who never understood how to properly speak
Who learned to take in others like them.

But it wasn't enough.

So you told a story of a kid who tamed the nearly domesticated
Who hugged creatures with flattened teeth
Who admired their bleating and their screams.

But it wasn't enough.

So you told a story of a kid who named themself for the night 
Who meditated upon the stars
Who cried out for mercy in the unforgiving sky.

But it wasn't enough. 

So you told a story of a kid who was scared of themself
Who hated that they couldn't be strong
Who feared what they might do to themself.

But it wasn't enough.

So you told a story of a kid who hurt themself.
Who screamed in pain when they couldn't forgive
Who picked scabs for fun and dotted the blood in pretty patterns on a napkin.

The listeners shriek in disgust. 
They hadn't wanted you to tell that story. 
The story of a kid who meant everything.
The story of a kid who meant nothing.
They were the same kid.

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