I know no one but myself sees
how every square inch of that place
sets every nerve alight with phantom pains
The sunrise is lonely and harrowing
when you are small,
with the responsibilities of an adult
and the helplessness of a child

Age and memory are alike, cruel
charlatans with a penchant for distortion
Childhood, a naïve young prisoner
who takes the lash all her youth, and so
learns that it’s normal—c’est la vie
A playground and a torture chamber
What, really, is the difference
so long as the strong uses the tools she’s given
to hurt the weak,
and enjoys it

I know the way innocence permeates
so that even my beloved ones could deny
who I was there
and what happened there
The moonfall is unforgiving when
even darkness is not a reprieve from
grave awareness, when even sleep
cannot save you from waking back up again

But really, it’s okay
now—
these hazy recollections and reflections
bring sharp gray insights alongside
The significance of suffering makes
perseverance
and fulfillment
a contrast enduring, and
achingly bright

My only regret
is how I walked those bloodstained streets
blind, and alone,
and I learned far too young that sometimes
your best isn’t good enough
and standing isolated among a crowd
that will never understand
is still a feeling that haunts me.

Keiran Elden

Keiran Elden (he/she/they) is a young writer from New York. He has been passionate about writing since childhood, and he strives to create art that is as emotionally sincere as possible. His work has been recognized and/or published by Bending Genres Journal, Cathartic Youth Literary Magazine, OUT Spoken Magazine, All My Relations, the Austin International Poetry Foundation, and the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards.