Though you’d never admit me to be justified
in saying “no,”
I think you know why I’m doing this.

Too often
I catch you staring at me, wanting me,
but never know how to say
what I have to say.

Sometimes I think you’re doing this on purpose,
Locking me up inside.
With no light seeping through.
My skin turning pale,
My hope being lost.
Leaving me by myself,
A world so alone.
I feel trapped in a prison,
Or lost in a crowd.

Who is this girl I see in the mirror?
This girl’s eyes full of fear, caused by
Demons whispering in her ears.
Scared one day their words won’t be lies.
She holds on, trying not to cry.
Each day wanting to die,
She finally cries.
A cry for help

Imagine yourself in a room full of balloons in a variety of colors, all with little white string.
Each balloon is an event; a lunch with friends, a family reunion, a party, a date.
You try to be attentive and pick up a balloon, only to have it pop in your unsuspecting hands.

I break down in the supermarket grocery aisles
because I only have five minutes to make the choice
between a variety of granola bars.