Ground Rules

My phone is dead. Black screen,

a dark mirror to my own face, messed up.

Parents took the keys. Said I crossed a line.

What line? It keeps moving, you can’t win.

Stuck here, peeling paint on the wall

is the most interesting thing to see.

My friend’s text, mid-sentence, just dropped.

Like my whole life just dropped, a heavy thing.

They say I’m overreacting, it’s always that.

Like my feelings are a joke, a trick of the light.

But it feels like drowning, just in my room,

and the silence is getting louder, cutting like a knife.

I want to scream, but what’s the point,

if they just smile and pat my head?

This isn’t fair, this isn’t right, my voice is thin,

and they just act like I’m already dead.