Innermost

Reach inside

myself.

Discard this outer shell!

It’s been marching like a corpse,

following the circus train.

I missed my stop.

Stop trying to be who I am not.

Paper mache layers,

apply another coat of paint.

No one will notice I’m not real anymore.

Some like it this way.

The glue around my mouth

gets tighter as it dries.

They like it when I can’t speak.

If I shut my mouth,

I don’t have to lie to fit in.

Glue it completely shut,

so I don’t have to coat shit

in gold paint and call it precious.

I haven’t felt valuable since

I stopped laying down in puddles

for people just to step over me and keep walking.

I knew when they stopped looking back,

I would never be their Eurydice.

No one would soothe the underworld with song to free me,

if I could not provide them with all the instruments.