Paperwall

Like vines twined within vines
When one is pulled
So will the other heart strings
That arch around the scant remnants of her identity

She hears a sound. Laughter.
A familiarity
A flimsy doll
That shrieks and shreds
Opens her mouth to say a word
To measure up

But along the way
It is processed, modified,
packaged, certified
Before it reaches the air

Her fingers are too willowy
Too weak to grasp
The porcelain
She tries to hold

Alas

It falls and breaks
Kisses the ground
Unable to be whole
anymore

A cry. A tear.
Bring in the glue
Scotch tape, wires too.

She must bind the broken pieces back!

But the cracks that show
Despite the guise
Glow luminously in the night

Give up.

She takes the scarred trinket
And throws it out
Into the abyss
From her window

------END------

What a manual job it is, hiding behind crowds. It drains mind power, eats away at self esteem like acid corroting the skin.

Try. and fail. grasp the rail.
Fall and trip. You cant get up, cause you're too sick.
Of everything.

Of not having your advocate by your side.
Being like a shadow that needs to hide.
Trampled at the sides.

And no one will hear you. Or see you. Or feel you. Cause you dont even know yourself.

vindicated @ 6:01:00 AM