our words feel like scraps of paper that have been thrown in the recycling bin. 

our voices have continued to speak and we have screamed for ages. 

our hearts have poured their souls into these words that feel as heavy as bricks. 

we hold these words close to us because they contain pieces of us that we don’t share.

these pieces are like the Play-Doh we used to shape into different creations. 

at the end of the day, 

our creations went back into the container they came in. 

these creations are our words, 

but we can’t contain these words anymore.

we tried to ignore the chaos around us, 

but the flames have struck us. 

we are near the fire that burns and the smoke has made its way toward us. 

our words cannot stay buried in the ground like the sand near the water. 

our smiles cannot stay fastened on like a seat belt. 

our eyes cannot wear blinders so that they only see what’s in front of us. 

our eyes are staying wide open and our ears are hearing all the poisoned words.

we have been told to make lemonade out of lemons, 

and we have laughed at the uncomfortable jokes.

we joked with our male peers in order to “fit in” and not be “sensitive.”

we were one of three that were female in a computer science class. 

yet, our answers were discarded and recycled by the boy next to us.

we question why our questions have gone unanswered.

and we hope to see the day where our bodies aren’t joked about.

we hope to see the gym teacher grade our work

instead of our gender

and we pray each night 

that we will see this day.