HOLD ON

Mama, Mama, help me! I’ve tumbled into the grass, bike broken, 
And blood drooling down my knees. I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold on. 

The sweat from my arms runs down my wrists,
The monkey bars slip from my grip until I can no longer hold on. 

Smiling, the words of forever and friendship dance on our tongues,
Leaving our pinkies wrapped in a tight little bow to follow, we hold on. 

Laughs and taunts, giggles and teases,
Swarm my back like a family of bees, hissing at me to hold on. 

Piles of numbers, words, and equations I don’t know lay before me,
Silent scream, searing headache, and tears trying to hold on. 

Multiple voices chime through the phone,
All speaking at once. I try to cut in, but all I can say is hold on. 

I watch a line of girls pull, squeeze, and tug, at the dresses that encase them. 
Braided in gulps of air, pleas lie. The woman bristles away, mumbling, hold on. 

We all scream cheese as the camera flashes, hands held high,
Swinging in anticipation of our next four years, at how much longer we must hold on.

Our pinkies once interlocked are now severed, cut off
By a child of her own that needs the support she once did, to hold on. 

Mama, Mama, help me! My small stream of tears reflects only the truth
Of the wretched world, you’ve shown me, discouraging me to hold on.