To the kids who feel like me

Sometimes I have to close my eyes and dump my brain down the bathroom sink because thinking is a weapon and even a negatively charged peace is easier than fighting a revolution But what am I living for? If I lay down my sharp tongue If I place my shield, my personality on a hook on the wall My words tear me open from the inside It doesn’t feel like a wound But instead it feels like the stitches that hold me together when I’m tired Our voices keep us together, individually and collectively We open doors and close cold, drafty windows Our art leeches emotions and toxins out while keeping the blood in The blood that courses through your body to sustain you Your life support as you soldier on Always the first to be shot at Always the first to recover Remember the battles we’ve won For the kids who are tired of thinking