A plain girl dressed by Walmart
holds her books against her breasts
looking down at the floor through unfashionable glasses
while walking down the hall to English lit.
No one sees her running the gauntlet
‘cept of course the mean girls, laughing among themselves
‘bout how she’s really only good for a quick suck
which ain’t sex anyway.
She will eat her lunch alone, return to a silent apartment
fix dinner for her cashier mom, go to the bathroom,
slit her torso with a razor shedding the blood of a lamb
in a two inch bright red line.
She will smile all the while
through the exquisite pain
soothed by the flow
of blood sacrifice.
And when she graduates and no one ‘cept her mother
will think to send her a card or deign to sign her yearbook
the shedding of her blood in the two inch bright red line
reassures her she is still alive.