Doors

I’m tired of locking myself in bathrooms
In closets

In cars

The first time I did it, I was afraid.

I was 3, and I didn’t know why everyone was yelling.

It was so loud, but behind that door, it was quite. 

No one could find me 

No one could hurt me

Until the door was ripped off the hinges and thrown across the room 

The second time I was 10 and my dad was yelling at my brother and I was scared.

I wanted to go home.
Not here,but my real home.

I couldn’t leave though. My mother got me two days later

Now, I’m 20 and I’ve been locking myself behind doors for years

And when there isn’t a door I lock myself in my body

Don’t get them mad

Pretend you’re not there

Don’t fight back, you don’t have a closet this time 

The sound of the shower is used to flood out the sound of racist slurs and xenophobic ideas.
The tears streaming down my face are a manifestation of years of keeping silent, because I’m so afraid. 

I’m afraid someone will find me in my bathroom, behind the wood door.

I can’t lock myself inside bathrooms anymore.

But I don’t know how to get out.