Titanium-Laced Bones
We are all sticks and stones
Made of broken glass and fragile bones
Wandering hopelessly
Searching for someone to care enough to trade their pieces for ours
Because if mine cannot be complete on their own
Then perhaps we need to mend each other
Perhaps I need a helping hand
To help me stand and hang on
To help me wage this war against the never ending sea of loneliness
Perhaps I need someone to look up to
So that when I am drowning in the cold depths of despair
I can tell where the surface is
Perhaps I need someone to pull the bullets from my chest
And the knives from for my back
Someone to take all the shrapnel and weapons out
And bandage my wounds
Yet no one comes to my door
And I can’t help but wonder why
Screaming and clawing at the walls that surround me
Begging them, pleading with them
Give me a door
Let me out, let me be free
Grey walls, dripping with laughter, are splattered with cruel words
All the whispers, the lies, the ugly truths, pretty smiles
Held together by fear of exposing my soul
As I sit in the centre I can’t help but ask
Why me
What did I to the world to deserve this
What line did I cross that enraged the universe so
Who chose this as my destiny
Someone to measure up to
A mountain to surpass
A means to improve their self-esteem
Sad and tragic
Not beautiful at all
Simply because I was not born like them
All because I do not act like them
I am a common thief
Locked in my dungeon with no doors or windows
They all frolic and dance
They are royal and proud
Born into their place
Given all that one can hunger for
But how can one not notice how the sun bleeds for us
The underdogs, the forgotten
The lost, the hopeless
The miserable, and those who are gone
Each morning the sky splits itself in half
Feeling the pain we have felt
And it weeps
Oh, such a horrific sound
The wailing of the sun as it bears down
And as night closes in
The darkest thoughts slink into our hearts
Deception and snickers echo through the air
Thoughts of words and actions
Bounce around the atmosphere
By morning, the sky is tormented yet again
Breaks its own skin
And heads into the ring for another round
Maybe words do not hurt
Maybe only our twisted minds do the work
But the pinches, slices, and stabs are felt
Each one a barbed wire
Ensnaring us, trapping us
Tightening and twisting as we struggle
We must battle until all we are is a mix of pieces from all of our adventures
Clothes and shoes
Toys and promises
Shattered souls and desolated dreams
I am a stone
Made of mismatched glass and titanium-laced bones.
