Shoulder Scar

Laptop bag on one side, leather warm.

My lunch, my water bottle, thick folders

in the other hand. My shoulders

round, a tired hunch.

The straps dig in, already I can feel

the red lines forming under the fabric.

Not even out the door, and the day's weight

is pressing down, a ghost of old school books.

The dull ache starts, low in my neck.

The way it used to feel, leaning against the locker,

trying to shrug it off before the bus came.

Just a deeper groove now, a different kind of burden.