I am what people expect me to be-
A paper crane in the never-ending rain,
A silk handkerchief folded into parts,
A broken vase with no flowers in it,
An elephant walking on a tightrope.
I ‘m what seems like soft edges,
But don’t make the mistake of believing that.
My paper skin cuts,
My silk finds its way to your neck,
My broken pieces are the reason I am whole,
And my weight only brings down people like you.
Don’t you ever make the mistake of thinking otherwise.
You haven’t seen the storm,
You haven’t witnessed the terror,
The lives lost,
And the homes broken.
I have cultivated my being for years,
I am who I choose to be.