Press enter after choosing selection

Once, In eighth grade,

    We had an assignment to write

    About ourselves.


It was easy enough,

    Until I got to the question,

    “When was a time you wished

    That you had more guts?”


Now, my brain instantly flashed

    To one memory in particular,

    And no matter how hard I tried,

    I couldn’t think of anything else.


In that moment, I would have given

    Anything to not have thought about:

    How loud he was yelling at her,

    Frightening me as I sat helpless

    In the passenger seat of her truck.


In that eighth grade language arts classroom,

    I was being tormented of scenes of:

    Him trying to reach into her truck,

    Reaching to take the keys,

    Her yelling at and hitting him,

    And me, crying and begging them to stop.


I was so distracted by these memories,

    That the bell rang,

    And I never got past that question.


The question haunted me,

    Followed me around all day.

    And, with it, came the flood of:

    Her, trying to use me

    To guilt him into stopping;

    It didn’t work.


Unfortunately, this soon lead to

A flurry,

    A tornado,

          A blizzard,

                A hurricane

    Of sounds filled my head:




    Tires burning rubber on pavement

    Breaking glass


The next day, I once again faced the question,

    “When was a time you wished

    That you had more guts?”


I simply put, “In the classroom.”

Zip Code