I can’t stop this moment from taking over
Its grasp extends its reach
Time to kill this hope
I’ve salvaged over the last 2 years
When I had nothing else to live for
All that I had taken for granted
Signed away with my handwriting
On a piece of paper labeled “contract”
I read the fine print
With glassy eyes
A will already beginning to crack
I remember when the dam broke
And my resolve shattered
In a room full of people
Humiliation so overwhelming
I wished I was hallucinating
I was broken
Only to be built again
From those same pieces
I watched my friends around me
Break more slowly
Defiance clear in their strong faces
I wished I had this same strength
As my grip quietly
Slipped away
I let them manipulate and control me
I gave them every once of my dignity
I went through the motions
I obey
Never contradict
Drifting each day
Between incredulity and blissful ignorance
I was the pawn in their revenue
Sums floating over my head
But I couldn’t think of the word –
Commodity?
When I was finally permitted to look in my reflection
I was scared to think
Of shattering that image
And letting it fall to the floor
With my hands and knees
Mixing glass with heartache
I never looked at myself the same again
Neither did any of the others
Who finally earned the privilege
That’s how we survived
Without going insane –
We shared the same longing
And that made us sisters
Even when
We found each other hanging
From underwear nooses
In shower stalls
Or in bloodstained bedsheets
Around our necks
Writhing on the floor
From panic attacks
Or seizures from overmedication
We never turned our backs
From each other
We gave up what we had
To cushion the hurt
And soften the tight grip
Of control exerted upon us
We’ve each inherited
The fear of straight lines
Of bright lights in the early morning
Of little white rooms
With nothing in them but cameras
of men with microphones
screaming for our answers
of hypnosis and hypotheses
on little sheets of paper
clothed in jargon
We fear voices on the radio
Quietly affirming, “10-4”
Of old women with crooked noses
Handing out slips of paper
With words that have unlimited power
The backbone of infrastructure
Hierarchy that’s never been breached
The fear of that first step
of initiation
back into our real lives
the discomfort of our pasts
and the “intervention”
nudging us forward
anything to forget
these awkward transitions -
what’s the point of punishment
when the will knows nothing else?
Suddenly, we realize
we’ve obtained our freedom
at too steep a price
I’ve made the mistake
Of looking back
And forgetting which way was forward

REFERRALS: CAICA is not a referral agency. CAICA does not refer to or promote facilities or transport companies for children or teens. CAICA warns parents that the parent pay / parent choice programs ie. Residential Treatment Centers, Therapeutic Boarding Schools, Behavior Modification Programs, Christian Programs, Positive Peer Culture Programs, etc., are not regulated by the Federal Government and that it is a "Buyer Beware" industry. CAICA provides the following for parents: Message to Parents, Help for Distraught and Desperate Parents, and Questions to Ask and Warning Signs.

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