tears in heaven

It's brutal here. Here where
a bitter war rages
against muggers and calories and repitition. And time.
Time is the most brutal of them all.

Yet the girls, they yearn
they yearn to come to the front,
to the Glory and Honour
Of pretty girls in pretty cars
with pretty plastic perfumed pencils
packaged in pink plastic wrappers,
And plastic smiles.

Yes, they send their daughters
here to fight, in a place where her
soul will die.

Eunice cried in the toilet today,
Locked herself in the cubicle, her inner sanctum.
We would have been with her. Really, we would.
But we had a lecture at three.
And Mrs Tan said:
"die die, cannot miss..."

At least Julia was there, to
put her finger down her throat.
To expel those vile calories. Please don't blame her.
She needs that. She needs to
cling, ever so tightly
to a glimpse of
heaven?

Oh, and by the way, Charmaine cut herself today. To feel
something
anything
It must have been
Her second abortion.

And as for me, I went home
And in those wee hours of twilight
Between Chem and Math
In that little space I could call mine,
I treated myself

To glance in the mirror
And cry.