Wow...I REALLY liked this one. There was so much emotion, you could really feel how the narrator is in turmoil. Awesome use of language, too. I think I like this one best of all your pieces so far. Great work!!!!!!

Girl in a glass box,
prison of their minds,
shouting through the thick walls,
nobody hears her screaming.

Everybody's pointing,
everybody's staring,
waiting to see her slowly go insane.

She pounds the glass with her fists,
claws until her fingernails break,
blood running red to the floor.

Everybody's watching,
looking for a nervous breakdown.
Girl in a glass box,
everybody's waiting.

Nobody's going to try and understand.
This voyeurism's tedious,
but it's everything they have.
Everyone setting you up to fail.

Every motion is observed,
every silent scream unheard.
People on the outside, looking in,
as you pay for some unknown sin.

No way to get out,
no door, no key,
and nothing breaks.
Girl in a glass box.
Who's there to help you now?

Girl in a glass box,
and you can never get out.

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Come join!

Thanks for commenting - it means a lot to me!

The Shame of Scars
Fingers tracing
over pale skin,
searching, probing, seeking
the stitched-up flesh.
Brows furrowed in concentration,
lips turned down in regret.

"You'll never look the same, you know."
Sentence of judgement on an unfortunate child,
a fate worse than death -
a marred face.

What will life be like
lacking the perceived qualities of beauty?
How can anyone think she's lovely
with the faded tracks on her cheek?
Is there any life
without physical attraction?
Who will marry her now?

Nobody knows
how the red faded to pale peach,
how the angry weals
turned to delicate treads.
Nobody knows that she is unashamed,
and bears her silently testimony
to a day of terror.

The glass chips salvaged
from her face
where she went through the window
left indelible marks.
The shattered cheekbone,
the only physical reminder
of the accident that caused it.

No makeup hides the scars.
No surgery for her.
She bears her brands with pride,
and does not shield it with her hair.
Her face reminds her
that her pain was real.
And she's is not ashamed
anymore.

Kind of lonely today...feel like writing. Probably not going to be my best, but oh well, it's my thread, lol...

Fateless Inconsistancies
Months pass by,
and nothing changes.
Pain ceases,
the scars fade,
but memories stay the same.

Flashes of light in the darkness,
the steaminess of late summer
bringing me back to a place I don't want to be.
A nightmare of broken glass,
a torment of twisted metal.
Shattered skin, bloodstained clothes,
my fingers groping nothing.

Maybe if I could blame,
it would be easier.
Maybe if there was someone to hate,
I could scream and rail
at these fateless inconsistancies.

This lack of acceptance tortures me.
If only they could understand.
If only I could make them see me,
show them the scars of my mind
are much deeper
than those of my skin,
which preoccupy them.

I'm still here, aren't I?
Nobody's broken me yet.
My body was battered,
my mind raped and assaulted,
but I'm still alive.
I'm stronger than they thought.

Time goes by
in a heartless instant,
a flash of light,
a moment of pain,
and life is over in a heartbeat.
How close I came to losing it all.
How did I make it to this day?

I clawed my way from the depths of scarred metal.
I struggled from a broken shell.
I will pull myself out
of these fateless inconsistancies.
I will take back my life.

The Shame of Scars-Very touching and emotional. Empowering too, and it kind of makes us realize how much weight society puts on physical appearence.

Fateless Inconsistencies-I liked this one a lot. Some favorite parts:
^That stanza is really cool because, to me, it's this cool kind of realization for the narrator...like there's no one to lay the blame on except themself, or they have no one to turn to and run to, and they just have to rely on themself. Very cool.

As I read it again, I like it even more

GirlWithAMic: Thank you! Both of these pieces are a lot more personal than I usually care to write, basically because they both pertain to a subject that's really close to me. I was in a car accident eleven months ago today, so I've been doing a lot of writing lately. Even though it's just a date, it always has a lot of meaning for me, when it goes by.

The first poem I wrote a few days ago, when I was grappling with the decision whether or not to have a second plastic surgery done on my face. When i was in the accident, my face went through the passenger window, and I had surgery in January of this year to remove the glass chips and sew up the scars. My face has improved dramatically since then, to the point where most of my friends are telling me that I shouldn't bother going through the trauma of a second operation. My parents, on the other hand, are telling me that it's now or never, so I have to make the decision by my birthday in September. But I think my mind is pretty much made up.

The second poem I wrote today, basically thinking about the accident. I really do have nobody to blame, because the person responsible for the crash was my own mother. And I know she feels guilty enough without me blaming her for it. Maybe if I had someone to feel angry with, I could vent a lot of feeling in anger. But there isn't anyone, and so I have a lot of untapped emotion to grapple with.

Thanks for the comments, though. It feels good just to get it all out.

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But I know the difference between myself and my reflection.
I just can't help but to wonder which of us do you love?

Every motion is observed,
every silent scream unheard.
People on the outside, looking in,
as you pay for some unknown sin.

Wow Girl in a Glass Box is a very relatable peice, i related so much because there are always times when you feel your faults are on display...no matter how much you try to remove that spotlight!
The flow was also powerful.......Sorry i dont have much time now but i'll make sure to come back and comment on some of your other stuff!

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My Space My Stuff

Thanks for your comment! You hit the nail right on the head, to use an overused cliche. But that was the point, after all. Thanks for commenting!

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But I know the difference between myself and my reflection.
I just can't help but to wonder which of us do you love?