if i made you mad enough,
would you shout at me?
would you call me horrible things,
and pay attention to me?
if i could die a martyr,
even just barely fitting the job description,
maybe my funeral could be more than colloquial apologies.
maybe i could make the news.
and maybe i'd be remembered
as the kid who went too far,
rather than the kid
who never tried that hard.
but for now i'll have to settle for
a damp room and restless fists,
bruised thighs and aching teeth,
while i pretend to scream.