Fragile

Fragile

By Allen Teare Martin

No matter how many times I will be stabbed in the stomach, you will say it's in my head.
I bleed until I can't walk but I am still told that I should talk about it.
The only time I've seen a doctor is to talk about my childhood.
Can you remember when you were young and you fell and twisted your ankle,
But you got up and ran and jumped and smiled and laughed?
When I twisted my ankle, I cried and was sent away, because something must be wrong with this child who feels pain.
I’ve always felt pain.

I feel pain when the sky is blue, and the weather is nice, and the air smells like flowers.

I feel pain when I am surrounded by cotton wool.

The people whose skin is void of thorns,

Those are the ones for whom I would die. 

How can seventy miles feel closer than seven feet? 

I'll tell you why. 

Because everyone who surrounds me with their false warmth decides that

I'm too complicated to be a decoration on their shelf. 

I'm not a puzzle to be solved.

My head is just as messed up as yours.