when the sun is shining,
when the people are partying,
when the country is celebrating
where do all of the sad girls go?

tried to love myself,
but went outside and
they punished me for it.

tried to heal myself
but went inside and
i punished me for it.

where do all of the sad girls go?

in this world where we call people “depressed”
and not “disposable?” as if trauma
is something we chose and
not the other way around

where do all of the sad girls go?

when they told us it would get better
(but it didn’t).

when they told us to try harder
(but we couldn’t).

where do all of the sad girls go?

in this world that requires us
to write poems about the people who have their hands
wrapped around our necks for the very people who have
their hands wrapped around our necks to recognize
that they indeed have their hands wrapped around our necks

in this world where resistance is a requirement for survival
progress: fairytale to keep us sleeping
hope: they drug they won’t stop prescribing

where the only way to heal is to hurt
where the only way to heal is to hurt

where do all the sad girls go?

when the only way to heal is to hurt
another sad girl with a story about
her world war of a body
that we cannot hear because
of our own world war of a body?

tell me: where do all the sad girls go?

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