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Glass
December 29, 2020
It’s not that I don’t want to,
Because I do.
It’s more like I can’t,
Because I won’t.
Other people have said things
So many times
And now I just say them myself,
To myself.
Are you sure that’s a good idea?
Or will you just screw it up
Is it worth the effort?
Yes.
But you can’t do it.
It’s because you’re a coward
It’s because there’s really nothing there
No secret door that will show
How smart I really am.
Just empty.
No one cares what happens inside
Unless you’re made of glass
Which I am, but it’s always opaque.
© Alexandra F., Harbor Springs, MI
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I wrote this poem about oppression, or more specifically, self-oppression. I think everyone oppressed themselves in some way and what makes that so dangerous is that sometimes it’s impossible to realize you’re even doing it. But I wrote this about how it feels to be self-aware of that oppression and how that slowly eats away at self esteem and confidence because you can see a way out but you can’t get yourself to reach it.