Words are Knives

Interlude

I am sitting in a classroom.
The teacher is going on and on
About the virtues of our voracious American appetites.
I want to vomit.
It's sickening,
How much these half-wits,
Love themselves.

"Humans are horrible,"
I mutter, and the girl next to me
Spins around, looking miffed, eyebrows sky-high.

"What are you talking about?"
She sniffs,
In awful, self-righteous tones.

"I hate humans."
I say simply, staring at my worn shoes.

"You're a human."
She scoffs, as if I was a little kid.

"I wish I wasn't."

"Well, what do you wish you were, then?"
She has the whole class watching now.

"Dead."
The word slips out before I think, and the other six kids in the class burst into laughter, my comments soon forgotten.

But I do not forget.

And that is one word,
That was not a lie.