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.