Ode to Past Cowards

darien breedlove

Administrators our wardens.

They locked us in

prisons of “I don’t understand you”,

Held our arms with self-regret.

chained our feet to desk chairs.

Hardworking to an unhealthy extent. Educators

put a number two pencil in our hands

Not a paintbrush.

In an act of compliance, we wrote but it just kept breaking

The lead and our hopes

We turned anxiety into a paintbrush.

Self-harm and anger became our brush strokes.

We took their pencil

carved into us the name of these shackles.

Stupid

when it’s feeling reflective,

 I can still see where I slashed my T’s and stabbed my I’s.

Teachers told us to save the future.

But they made us claw back to the blueprint.

Save us from our mistakes, we won’t save you

In the end

I learned to enjoy loneliness.

To make do with peace and time.

To cherish the wanting glances

of human companionship.

From my cell mates in the sky.