Sculpting
April 10, 2019
She wants to know herself
But she’s only seen strangers.
A lump of old clay,
Molded by many hands.
She’s never been the same woman twice
No matter how hard she tries.
A lump of old clay,
Changed a thousand times.
When someone asks her who she is,
She asks, “who do you want me to be?”
Picked apart to make a brand-new thing,
More appealing to you than the last.
She only knows herself
As someone no one wants.
They only want me in their hands
When they’re tearing me apart.
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