People do talk,
And when they talk,
They ask me why I bother with you.

Because it stings
When I walk away.

My siblings,
Looking so far
Down their noses
The rest of us
Look small and insignificant.

I learned a very important
Lesson
When I almost succeeded
In committing suicide.

Suicide wasn’t about how I felt,
It was about how terribly uncomfortable
The attempt made everyone else.
How utterly inconvenient.

I lack finesse
And social grace,
I’m not particularly smart,
Or pretty
Or interesting,
And that makes me
Uncomfortable
For them.

I looked in the mirror
Last night
And made a detailed list
Of all the things I wanted to yell
At each
And every one
Of them.

Then it occurred to me,
Something amazing,
Fantastic even...
Something I should’ve understood
When I tried to tell people
I had been *****.

They
Don’t
Care.

I will destroy myself
In a million ways
To take care of people
Who won’t care about me.

I can throw love,
Money,
Everything
At them,
But nothing matters.

I told people I would’ve cut myself open for
That I tried to **** myself.

Not a call,
Or a text,
Or anything.
Nothing.
Radio silence
Fuzzy in my ears.

Because I don’t matter.
I’m not one of the important ones.

When I was just a girl,
And my face was being freshly painted
By puberty,
They each
Took a knife
And carved their names
Into the bottoms of my feet,
So it would always hurt
When I tried to walk away.

I made my own medicine,
Found the antidote
To the poison.
I’m wrapping my wounds
In bandages,
And I
Am walking
Away.

I have a workshop,
With a circus of colors
To preform and entertain.
Sheets of stained glass
In every color
Only limited by my imagination.

I cut the pieces in curly shapes
And faces,
Into smiles and frowns,
Into leaves or flowers.
Slowly
Arrange
The perfect picture,
Then stand back to look at my masterpiece.

I can never take my eyes away...
Sunlight bringing it to life,
Lighting the reds
On fire,
The blue turns to water,
The faces are are angelically glowing,
And I can’t stop looking,
I’m so lost in the picture...

I can’t see the world through it...
I forget there’s a world through
It,
It’s so beautiful,
Everything I ever wanted...

CRASH.

A hailstorm crashes through,
Shattering the glass,
And the hell storm
Out side blows where the beautiful
Manufactured image once stood.

I find myself a home,
And I fill it with stained glass.
I refuse to see anything around me
Except the picture I’ve dreamed into my reality.

And then the true reality crashes through,
It always does
Eventually.
Destroying almost, if not all, the wonderful things I’ve been so focused on.

I’ve found myself a home,
And I don’t remember building windows,
But the real world outside
Looks beautiful.
It’s full of flowers and leaves,
Sunshine and rain,
Faces with smiles,
And tears,
But no hell storm.

I know in the pit of my stomach,
That it’s going to be shattered,
And I don’t want to be caught off guard this time...
I want to catch it in my hands,
All the awful things,
And hold them like a struggling scared animal
So they can’t surprise me this time,
So I don’t feel like the stupid one
This time.

I’m wandering around
With a rock in my hand,
Going from beautiful thing,
To beautiful thing,
And trying to hit it with the rock,
Trying to break the illusion
Before I love it too much.
I may not remember,
But I must have built the image
In my wondrous workshop,
And tricked myself again.

But no windows are breaking,
And I’m shaking.

What’s wrong?
Why can’t I escape the illusion?

Because I haven’t realized,
Maybe it’s just a plain old boring window,
Not stained glass,
But reality.