Sender Unknown


You are rising, have risen,
teeth bared to a world that
hardly knows you.
But you know it.
Scratching and peeling off
the paint on the walls,
you’ve lived it.
You are fresh, are reborn
Still in your eco-friendly box.
Loaning parts of you, precious parts,
giving things, fragile things.
cutting off fingers for them
to strangle you with.
Breathing seems easier
when there’s nothing left to feel.
No hand prints on my back
from being pushed onto
the beds of strangers I knew the names of.
The first one, gently
The second, pushing now
The third, ripping skin, skinning
The fourth, destroying.
You can’t do it anymore so you walk into doors
willing them to break your skull apart
To stop it to stop me to stop you to stop it
For me I need to do this for me
For me because I never do things for me.
Me me me when will it be
my time, my turn, my right, to be loved and held
and looked after by a world that only seems to notice me
when I’ve painted myself a clown.
Put me back in the box
I am a pollutant
Send me back, seal broken,
return address attached to my ankle,
Sender unknown.

By Fatima Mohamed