#poetrybraindump

Its such a shame that it made the box, it made the hinges, the walls, the tiny opening that let's in air and fills the box with a sliver of light admits the darkness that consumes the inside.

It made the lock, it made the corners that are reinforced.

It made this box.

And yet it's trapped inside.

It's trapped inside it's own creation.

Sometimes, it tries to leave only for the harsh light to hurt it, so it goes back inside and forces itself to enjoy the dark. Only letting in a small sliver of light from the slit it left in one side.

Sitting in a valley of flowers.

Because you can't bear to see your favorites wilt,

Your roots will twist and then will tilt.

You give your water to them, your nutrients as well.

You smile as your leaves fall away, your branches no stories to tell.

And when you become so burdensome, the flowers begin to scream.

For they did not know that gods could fall, and to them a god you seem.

And so you fall with a smile on your face, knowing you've done good.

But I thought I was meant to be here.

I thought I had done it right that if I said something I would be rewarded the same way I reward others!

Why did I fight so hard to be heard!?

Why is it when I say something it comes out so flimsy...?

Snap-

I... I tried to be the best I could be... Is it wrong I feel this anger at being hurt right in front of my face?

Is it wrong to see the exact same things I cried over being done again and again by someone I trust?

Is it so wrong to finally cave under all of the pressure of being easy!?!

Crack-

It feels comfortable to want silence, to crave pain, to need stability. When I have none.

Why don't I have any...

Why do I keep loving those who don't love me?

Why do I keep seeing red in places where I'm not seen at all.

Why do I keep supporting people and reaching out when my hand gets slapped away in exchange for the hand of another?

Why can i not learn that lesson?

Why does my heart hurt to think about it.

Snap-

And... So I crumble. To dust. To ash. To nothing more than rubble atop a hill. A hill made of the kindness I have left to give.

Made slave to those who keep their mouths shut when I need words.

Made fool by those who seek to get rid of me by making me leave.

A doll who is forced to ignore it's needs and maintenance.

A doll who knows it needs to care for itself, but it doesn't have what it needs.

A doll that needs too much, it feels.

A doll who would prefer to be on display, to not have to think, to only need to think when it wants to.

A doll who doesn't want it's personhood.

A doll who keeps it for the person it loves.

A doll who needs the person it loves.

A doll unloved.

A doll loved.

No, not spoiled. Not waited on hand and foot.

I want to step into the bliss of being weak and needy. I want the weight of my responsibility to be wrung from my shoulders. I want to be pampered.

To be given the okay to slip into the comfort of knowing it's not my problem- at least not right now.

I've spent most of my life being responsible for those around me. Parents who acted like children, and had no way to truly take care of and accept the responsibility of actual children. Children who didn't have proper parents and this relied on their older sibling to care for them.

I was the eldest daughter.

I boast and carry the trophies of a job and money and responsibility and life lessons, wisdom beyond my years, an old soul.

But they are heavy, filled the the brim with, stress and strife and missing out.

I know how to be an adult but I never fully learned how to be a child. I wish to be pampered.

To not be expected to wake myself, to be amused by the smallest things, to know even without my input everything will be okay. To not even be worried there was a chance of something not being okay.

Something in me yearns to nap without fear that an hour has gone by where I've been useless...