Dear 12 Year Old Preteen Poem by Riley Choma

Dear twelve year old preteen,

Why aren’t you afraid of the monsters under your bed? I can’t help but think of the ones in my head and wonder “did you have them back then? ” I remember the way you would stare at the big bear trucking company sign as if it was a trigger, and I still tense up every now and then too. Sometimes the sign’s letters shift as if they are on a track that moves them, and I read ‘beer.’ I wonder… Was that why you starred so often? How many times have you asked him to quit now? I know you use to ask him a lot.. I asked him again last night but he can’t seem to put it down; each drink is a game of Russian roulette with a bottle rather than a gun. How’s school? I remember everyone as being so cruel. When they threw them, did the basket balls hurt nearly as bad as you felt? I blocked that out long ago, but I have been remembering more lately, so maybe that will come back to me someday soon. Do you have things you blocked out and can’t remember? I still think about how I hadn’t been quick enough to grab the pills. I have wrote a few since. Have you wrote it yet? I can’t help but remember the plan… Do you think it would hurt? You know... To die? It's an arsenal filled day again and it’s always going to be an ongoing battle. They tell you to take the road less traveled, but I know you only ever wanted the choice. Are you still holding your breath? I am getting kind of tired. Don’t let them fool you,16 isn’t a magic number. Do you still live by the saying life goes on? I do, only now it might dig my grave. Life is full of pain and if life goes on then it does too.I'm sorry I didn't try harder. I should have protected you better, but then again I guess I don't protect me now either.