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Poem

My reality, or be it my insanity, is a screen, deceiving, an object without meaning, flat and thin. Any strength to hold this glass from shatter, let my being have no matter, is a metal weak as tin

Anything felt with heart, I shall always be apart, tint shadows hope and warmth from sun with dark. Anywhere I touch my life, like grime and tarnish on polished knife, I dirty, smudge and mark

Anytime I look for something near, a reason to  make my world seem clear, see paths in clarity, all obstacles right. Doubt fogs every step I take, shakes each chance I make, I'm left confused and blind in sight

Any prayer, though rare, I send to god, goes ignored, never heard or helped. Behind this plane, my wall of shame, I'm alone, forever crying to myself

Any day I scream for help, dead inside, I forgot how emotion felt. Through this prison you'd never know I'd spoken, then you whisper, now glass thin, my name judged, seal cracked and broken

Any light when felt earned, joy lasts a second, then light turns and moves to reflect in my place. I see shapes crossed, yet similar, images obscure, but somehow familiar. I fight to never recognize I'm own face

Any dream of a day my screen will come away, a day I'll speak loudly and want my own name. I've long since forgotten, dreams now numb and rotten, behind your mirror of expectation I shall remain

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