An hour later I rise

from a heavy sleep, drenched

in the stink and wet of sweat

dressed in sad fatigue,

my room a tornado of everything that

once lived in the pink dresser

Dad bought me

the way my family sees me

I am still only in the second grade with nothing

I can safely call mine

I count twenty

of the first pages

once written only

for my eyes

grab

scissors

cut

rip

go to the toilet

flush