We Made It

I have to keep going
A grade doesn't define me
In the scheme of things,
A screaming match means nothing
I will walk across that stage
Take that paper
And that will be the biggest
Fuck you
To my mental health
To the people who think I have my birth mom's habits
To this Hell called high school
I have to make it
Because I didn't have four years
Of anxiety attacks
And AP courses
For nothing
June twenty sixth
Mark that down
And when I'm still here
My "grad" party
Will hold a different meaning to me