Like a ball of glass, being thrown by children,
The heart can take so much.
The small child that is always stuck in the middle,
Strangely familiar, trying to take back what's theirs.
Wild eyed, fearful,
Wishing they hadn't brought it out into the playground.
The big bullies laugh gleefully, menacingly,
Growing like shadows on a stormy night.
Intimidating, misunderstood,
Always knowing the laugh is never on them.
Then the vultures of gold, phones and hair extensions,
Feasting on the ugly duckling through their masks of paint.
Adapting, leering,
The chain where you are always the weakest link.
But that person who throws the stone,
Releasing the heart from the ice tomb.
Different, unique,
Your friend.