On The Stand Forevermore...

• Erin Cahill, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2015

Every time I see you, you make me feel like I’m in a court room.
You always willingly place me on that flame-filled stand.
Waiting. Just waiting…
for me to fall through the cracks of your blackened heart.
Before one word slips through my tongue, you gladly insert my name onto your suspect list.
My every breathless second of life feels like an infinity of death with you.
Why do I always have to be on the defence against you?
Why do you forcibly push me onto that stand and tell me I’m worthless?
You made me look into that blurry mirror of cruelty and constantly repeat that I was nothing.
Little did I know that it was blurry for a reason.
I was never speaking to my reflection; I was forever speaking to yours.
I am in your cage of wrath that I shall never escape. You will always be there.
My bias judge.