Why do I feel
Like I've just inherited
The body of someone who's done something
Worth being praised for
When all I feel
Is like something made of paper
And peppermints
All sticky and clingy
And fragile and flimsy
Why do I feel
Like I do not belong
In this praise
Like it is not me
They are talking about
Like it is someone else
Like the greatest game of switcheroo
And old 2000s movie
Like the ones I watch
To try and not cry for and 1 and 40mins

What do I have to do
To be made of iron again
To be made of polyester
Never rotting never dying immortal
To be made of wood
To be solid and warm
When all I feel
Is made of paper
Like the wrapping
For a gift I'm not