Checking themselves like they’re
schoolteachers checking papers for errors;
and when they find a mistake,
scratching it out with red ink—
their own blood;

But when the student gets her
paper back, she hides it so that
nobody can see
her ‘bad’ grade—
her own Scarlett Letter,
which brands her with
imperfection and impurity,
marks her as the
reason for other people’s impotence—
because that’s all that matters
to anyone, it seems.
But who is she to blame
but herself?
For she is both the student and the teacher:
The young apprentice and her own worst critic.

She dreams of being a writer;
writing her story across her wounds—
across the margins
of her arms and legs,
her stomach and her breasts,
even across her face—
in black ink,
her own death:
hoping her words
will silence her thoughts,
their thoughts,
forever.

Brinn W.

This poem was created and written by Brinn Wallin. Please do not steal or copy without permission. 
*All Rights Reserved*