I'm looking through
the looking glass
Because there is nothing left to see
On the surface
Or even in between
As fingers graze my skin
I want nothing more than to have nails pierce in
To curve my fake hands
Into fake claws
With fake nails and
Carve until I'm raw
My flesh, ripped open
Insides exposed
Caged screams threaten to break through, though
My hands struggle too late
Under her elbows
The clasp I reach for
Upon my lips like metal bows
My selfish struggle I abhor
As my voice will only deafen,
My protests hurt,
And my lashing harm my kin
Constructed by her
My body for her
My mind for her
Owned by her
My soal craves peace from needs
Yet I can only claim martyrdom
Are these selfless deeds?
Because I cannot claim joy from
The pieces of myself I give
Anger thrives instead
An unjust emotion to live
As what is done is fed
Into the mouths of the needy
My resented "selfless deeds"
Are required by the greedy growth of our seeds
How do I despise myself?
"Let me count the ways"
Until I've grown
To accept the Queen's
Early given throne
I find no reason
To laugh and preen
For I must accept
My early given burden
Or forfeit the sanity of
All who are left
I am nothing else then
If not my duties' glove
I'm looking through
the looking glass
Because there is nothing left to see
On the surface
Or even in between
YOU ARE READING
Forget-Me-Not
PoetrySoft grass asks me the question Forget me not? Feedback is greatly appreciated along with any time spent reading anything of mine. Great kindness is felt for anyone who gives me such a beautiful purpose as to relate to other people with my writing a...
