Above me hovers endless sky--
dark, calm, tranquil, and flowing
I see my reflection in the occasional ripple of stars;
wilted hair, hunched spine, smudged, muddy eyes
I hate how it so clearly displays
my pathetic, pitiful, existence--
a life laced with strife underneath gold
spread on the surface
symbols traced on walls, willowy and enchanting
mistaken by outsiders as representing
a record of aspirations,
I am the sole figure who knows the truth:
that it's a record of my flaws and regrets
I've managed to make it this far--
an entanglement of blessings, luck,
opportunities, strangers' pity,
a system's willingness, and my own work
but I know it's not enough,
and I'm uncertain of how much longer
I can continue to pitch my complexity and worth--
just hoping that when the dam bursts
with the arrival of the truth;
the moment I can no longer pretend
everything is okay....
just hoping that mom and dad
will still love me for who I am,

and that the world will leave me alone