Bologna Girl, That's Me.

The Stars Whirled Above Us And The Firecrackers Blazed. The Moon Stood Watch As Drops Of Blood Fell, Careless Seeds That Sizzled In The Snow.

Used To Be That My Whole Body Was My Canvas-hot Cuts Licking My Ribs, Ladder Rungs Climbing My Arms, Thick Milkweed Stalks Shooting Up My Thighs.

Sometimes I Think High School Is One Long Hazy Activity: If You Are Tough Enough To Survive This, They'll Let You Become An Adult. I Hope It's Worth It.

No, I Am Never Setting Foot In This House Again It Scares Me And Makes Me Sad And I Wish You Could Be A Mom Whose Eyes Worked But I Don't Think You Can.

This Camp Is A Forge For The Army; It's Testing Our Mettle. Instead Of Heat And Hammer, Our Trials Are Cold And Hunger. Question Is, What Are We Made Of?