Claustrophobic

For every one thing I’ve
Done right so far you’ve noticed
Two things wrong.
I spend days talking to therapists,
And the nights tearing chunks
Of my pretty pink hair out,
Hoping to look like Albert Einstein.
Maybe that way,
You’ll realize that I have the ability to
Do something with my life.

I’m a smart girl,
But I need room to stretch—
I’m a bit claustrophobic.
Yet as always, my cage is too small.
So my shoulders strain against steel, and my
Crazy hair sticks through the bars,
But no one notices the
Bruises I’ve seemed to acquire and I’m
Not allowed to seek out medical attention.

So panic sets in, vision tinged with
Black.
They tell me I’ll make it out of this cage
As soon as I’m of age…
Unfortunately, it seems that I’ll choke
Before that.