White-washed on even whiter walls.
Noise fills my nosey ears.
Clunks and clanks of our new lockers,
And the promise of a new year.
It wasnâ€™t the first time I had seen them.
Those people who had changed me.
She and him who would leave their marks.
Clawing open my heart.
Abuse, being used, honestly confused.
But it was the metaphorical drug I used.
My needed fix, for me to mend, and heal them.
As I let myself become teared.
As I let my innocence become scarred.
They tore my mental flower apart.
As I stood there and took it all.
As I fell apart.
He confused me.
A mysterious type of person.
I was drawn than smitten.
She abused me.
A dominate personality.
I was drawn, She was worshipped.
They both used me.
But I stood there and took it.
Smiling every moment.
Crying every night.
I lost him first.
I saw him for who he was.
After those late night calls.
Which turned to late night texts.
These turned to him asking me.
For trying to turn my temple into a viewing screen.
Trying to find out my secret places.
I lost him by choice.
I lost her second.
But I was still blinded by her.
My family heard whispers of the night.
Which turned into late night texts.
These turned to her asking me.
To turn my sexuality into a viewing screen.
Trying to spill the secrets of me.
I lost her for the better.
I lost myself third.
My emotions turned for the worse and the days grew longer.
I mourned for myself and for them.
A shredded heart of fleshy sorrow.
It turned cold as ice.
And I was cracking to my bone marrow.
I fell into my lovely torment.
Hidden in a passionate terror.
I found myself fourth.
I am not a viewing screen for the pleasure of those who put in dimes of time.
I am not those dirty fingerprints that plague my heart.
They have changed me for the better.
But they have made me build.
Bricks, stones, and standards.
For those who hold my heart.
This is what I learned in Eighth Grade.