Trapped

This blue feeling shows through my hair as I gaze up for answers.

Stripped of my orange jumpsuit,

but still trapped in a clear jam jar for everyone to see.

A circus side show,

only a little sparrow comforts me.

I cry globs of strawberry jam that slide down my bare skin,

adding to the already half-full jar.

My arms are stuck.

Some say that you can always get out of what you get into,

but I’m beginning to doubt that idea.

Sooner or later I’ll drown in my strawberry jam sorrows

and a whole city of people will watch.

Common bystanders give a second of their time to stare at that strange blue-haired girl,

but don’t bother to help.

Somehow I still get hurt in my safe glass enclosure.

Just rip off the bandages why don’t you.