Wrong World
~Body
A Debilitating cage I’m not permitted to escape,
Thoughts of blades, craving the slice and scrape.
Jokes and giggles echo from friendly and unknown lips,
I stop eating and lay down the chips.
Everything I do from breathing to eating, to sitting causes laughter,
Leaving me crushed, despondent, and confused after.
Loose and dark clothing cloaking a body I am taught to hide,
The glares and scoffs speak silent volumes when implied.
Clothing made for a body I will never obtain,
With the common recommendation to just self restrain.
Years ago it wouldn't be the case
Now just to leave the house I must brace.
Punishing the flesh only goes so far,
Each failure marked with another raised scar.
~Mind
Since the young age of six I knew,
Missing unspoken expected cues.
The world I view isn't what most see,
Self-worth swiftly crumbling into debris.
Books unfold new worlds with simplicity around each corner,
Yet when the pages close, I'm back to being the local foreigner.
Hearing words of a language I have known my entire life,
Attempting to understand brings nothing but strife.
The simple beauty in a raindrop,
Was the first time I saw my brain stop
to admire something no one saw
But doctors call it a genetic flaw.
A brain not built for this world,
so back into a ball, I curled.
~Soul
A hopeful heart meant to help all,
Eagerly willing to assist unprepared for the fall.
One person willing and waiting to drain,
for nothing more than their own gain.
Hoards of people needing one more thing,
I’ll happily bend in half to be your sling.
As soon as I request a shoulder to lean on,
Suddenly their need for me is gone.
Confusion and self-blame infecting the gash,
Readying myself for the next crash.
I get tired of shoving my round pieces through the world’s square hole.
A stream of non-ending reiterations of my differences, from body to mind to soul.
Tick marks line my limbs, counting the times I let the urges win,
Memories laced with shame encourage a new chapter of sin.
Pointless quest after quest attempting to find the map to this stage of life,
As the bedroom door closes at night, I'm left with stinging tears and a yearning for a knife.
Copyright © Elissa Quigley | Year Posted 2021
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