I am the leftover sand, deposited in the tracks of a wave
The wave is so powerful, it has a course
A purpose
Billions of water molecules are on it's side
They're an army
Support
While they pave the road to their destination
I'm left behind.

I am the "good" eraser
Lost in the dark depths of your school bag
I don't matter.
You don't remember ever having me
But when you have something to erase
Suddenly you start digging in the pile of junk
Where I belong
I am never noticed
until
You decide to use me for your own benefit.

Maybe I'm the sidewalk beneath your feet
You never notice how dependent you are
upon me
But if I were to disappear
You'd be stuck.

Or more likely
I'm a single strand of hair on your head
Always there
But never thought of
For there are so many others to replace me
So when I finally shed
No longer with you
Everything carries on
as usual

What is it like
Not only to be seen
but
noticed?
What is it like
Not only to be heard
but
listened to?
What is it like to
Not only to be touched
but
felt
through and through
How does it feel
to actually be a
part?

The surface is fragile
One step above
One step below
It doesn't work out
There's no
gray area
only
black
and
white
The surface is
equilibrium
Desirable
Not to high
not to low
Perfect, relaxed
The higher you go or
the lower you go
the harder it is to get to the
balance
where you need to be
One step above
or
One step below
It just never works out
for
The surface is fragile
It only tolerates perfection.

I don't feel like
I can do this anymore
How do you hide the cracks
So that they aren't visible
to the eye?
Wings can suddenly appear
But they can't lift a body
Weighted
by
confused chains
Nothing is ever set in stone
Nor is ignorance ever
bliss
But neither is awareness
So what do you do in such a situation?
When there are two roads
branching off an intersection
But both of them are
Blocked?
Where do you go?
What do you do?
Nothing.
You stay.
Sit.
Still.
Stranded.
Silent.
Waiting for help to arrive
But you forgot the most important part
When you are the most
broken
lost
and desperate
The last thing any person would do
is offer
assistance

I'm standing in my nice box
Plastic smile on my face
Permanent
My eyes unblinking
They come
They want to play
They pull my hair
Bite my head
Pull me apart
Piece by piece and try to put me back together
the pieces don't quite fit
the way
they used to
at end of the day
they put me back in the box
covered with scratches and bruises
wounds
some of them you cannot see
the next day
they expect me to still be there
for them to play with
tear apart
again and again
until I am too broken
even for a
toy

Their perfect lipstick mouths
form words that never
disappear.
Fat, ugly, stupid
They stay
They haunt you
When you are left alone with only
your thoughts

Why do they hate me?

They live to make me feel like
the awkward piece
that doesn't fit into the puzzle
Left standing
behind their backs

Why do they hate me?

Company is rare
I try to find someone to talk to
comfort
glares are returned
from perfect people
I've
never
met.

Why do they hate me?

I stare at my reflection
In the mirror
"Fat"
The words replay in my mind
"Ugly"
But it's not their voices
"Stupid"
"Worthless waste of space"
It's mine.

Now I know why they hate me
Because I hate me too.

What doesn't **** you
Makes you stronger,
they say.
When they taunted me
My confidence turned into
bitter doubt
Questioning my every move
They hate me, I know it
Everyday is a struggle
They enjoy seeing me in pain
suffering
day by day
week by week
years
always the same thing
Now
the darkness is pierced into my heart
a permanent tattoo
for everyone to see.
No.
What they say is not true
Empty promises
What doesn't **** you
makes you wish it did.