by Lara Morrison

A glacier is formed when 
snow accumulates over time,
turns to ice and moves downwards 
under the pressure of its own weight
just like when I was twelve years old
and started to hate everything I ate 
because a boy called me 

c
h
u
b
b
y

on the way home from 
school to make the 
other boys laugh and he didn’t 
care about me, or my body or 
his words which embedded themselves in my ears 
and turned to stone and scraped along 
the base of my brain

f
o
r
c
i
n
g

tears to flow into my 
skull creating cracks in
its foundation freezing, fracturing fissures forever
altering the structure of my core remaining
long after he apologised and my own voice
replaced his weathering, plucking any warmth from
the thoughts in my head

l
e
a
v
i
n
g

behind striations and abrasions permanently 
marking me as treacherous 
terrain tearing into those who try
to temper my gelidity, I become meltwater 
running away from them and myself fearing I
am not flesh and bone but ice 
sheets shaped into a woman.

Lara Morrison
Lara is an aspiring novelist. She lives in Ireland where she was born and raised. She is a lover of pop culture and is an avid concert goer.