Another meal together
how i loathe them so
I cry and scream and hate
again and again
how they tear me down
with what they call love
amd we all gather around
some dead bird
perhaps as dead as we are inside

and every time they tell me
how terribly much I've grown
annd inside I cry
because they are right
It is too much, so terrible
how I've stretched inside my skin
aching and lanky, akward
over grown, too much for myself
too much to be
too much for them, to accept