Alone
By Ashley O’Hare
Thank you for the years of torture.
Thank you for the writhing pain.
Without you, I would be weak:
An optimist blindly believing every reporter.
A girl who would smile in a hurricane.
A student unafraid to speak.
Now I have the opportunity
to doubt the intentions of my community.
Now I have the chance
to judge strangers at first glance.
Now I can use the gift of anxiety
to have some sweet, solemn privacy.
Because now I am all alone
in the aftermath of sins you will never atone.
I am on my own
with my nostrils stinging from your cologne.
I am all alone.
I am all alone.