The Cold Glass

My collorbones like handles poking through my skin

The rungs of a ladder to pull me out and set me free

And when I pull to climb out of this wretched body

I feel instead myself crumble and fold within

my hopes and dreams spilling out of me

 

I can feel myself go crashing to the floor

but im still standing staring at my reflection

my hand reaches out to press against the cold glass

and what it portrays moves with me

but what it portrays is not me

this reflection stabs my heart

I feel a stream forming on my cheeks

I collapse to the floor

I feel a disconnect like i am no more

 

my body is not right cuz thats not me

I'm a boy

who is she

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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