Permenant Marker

God, I remember that day
& see, looking back now,
I can read my contorted body,
... viewing the shapes it fit into.
Z
  Z
      Z....
You were the child,
trying to fit the rectangle block into the triangle.
Mere stupidity I can see,
& instead of getting the triangle block to fit,
you molded the rectangle into the triangle.
and you know what, that "rectangle" of a triangle,
still didn't fit.

Hey, you, & she wrote those shapes down.
somewhere.

after that fight,
you tried everything to persuade her to stay.
but god, she didn't want that.
And after trying your hardest,
the only thing left to do, was to take.
To take her shirt sleeve and try to pull her closer to your,
ever so judgmental body,
but her body shape, just wouldn't fit into yours.

&...
  &....
      &.....

& the stitching slowly tore,
and the buttons she used to button up that shirt
after the countless number of shirt pulls,
were popping up.
there was nothing else to reel her back in.
And the shirt finally tore.

You stood there, slowly backing further away,
for the first time.
as your hands gaped down your own body.
seeing the joke of a man that did that to this poor girl.
You saw the words in permanent marker,
running down her arm,
all the shape names,
all the things that you tried to mold her into.
like scars, permanent memories,
staining her mind,
forever.

& with the permanent marker,
she wrote that night,
the last word, encasing her body with joy,
she wrote across her own forehead,
FREEDOM.