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child
January 7, 2022
dirty tennis shoes
squeaking on cold tile
worried about being seen
through the gaps of the door.
going hungry yet again
reaching into your pocket
a single pack of goldfish
good enough for now.
the sound of water running
someone’s here
they can see you
hear your thoughts
smell your fear
laughing at you
more voices
censored thoughts
but they can hear.
water stops running
but your cheeks are wet.
i’m eighteen
and still haven’t learned.
© Anonymous
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I wrote this poem about the anxiety and fear I felt as a child when I used to hide in the bathroom.