When you chose me
From among the stock
Did you pick me for the shape of me,
Or the ads you'd heard?
Was it my hand on the wall
Of the glass case they kept me in,
Or the fingerprints I left behind?
Did you choose me
Because of the colors on my box
Or because someone else
Told you that you should?
Why did you choose me?
There are prettier dolls,
More perfect ones
With pretty faces and joints that bend
What was it about me
That made you pull me off my shelf
And tell the cashier
"This one's mine,"
Like it was some forgone conclusion
And the store was merely doing you a favor
By holding onto me for you
Until you could come and get me?
What did you see in me,
The imperfect, broken doll
Cobbled together from mismatched parts?
Am I just the outside to you,
Or do you see the me that hides,
Nestled into the cradle of my rib cage,
Who speaks through me
Only when it knows it is safe to do so?
What do you see?
YOU ARE READING
furthermore
PoetryA poetic diary of sorts. A collection of poems chronicling my depression, suicidal ideation, and my journey through therapy.
