Tea Party
It's as if I'm trying to pour a storm into a teacup.
Voicing my reality,
a temperature too hot to touch.
Snickers across the room,
holding as much weight as the finger food left sat upon their plates
Noticing cracks in the fine-China
Others don't seem to notice.
Not able to unsee what has become fragile
while becoming careless.
I still know my own name.
The one spread in rumors,
and bouts of deep shame.
thats when the static they project
echo from the depths of my core.
Their static is loud.
but my signal endures.
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