Placenta
I stand withdrawn from the crowd.
You glance over, but continue your charade.
So polite.
I shrink back, forgotten, so many words in my head--
bubbling, bursting to break free from the cage.
You laugh (giggle) and compliment through smiles.
I barely know who I am.
Reality the stark thin thread, sharp and fragile.
Do you know the answer to You?
I stand withdrawn from the crowd--
waiting for you to approach the unapproachable.
My fault my fault. I know.
How can I learn that of which I don't know?
That of which I'm afraid?
How do children learn of Nazis?
Sugarplums to Neutron bombs.
Each in its own time, right?
They really love you. All of them.
Here I sitstandslouch away from it all.
This is why it's not me.
There you laugh, hug, quip.
This is why it's you.
Why it's always been you.
You of the emotion-eyes.
You of the wit.
You of the capability to laugh.
You of the talking with people.
All so natural?
So very foreign.
That is why I planned to cross the road.
I am unnecessary. The world moves.
Yet here I am typing, stagnant.
You are enough world for anyone.
They don't need me.
They'll never want me.
I am the Placenta of our culture--
only the 'weird' ones will eat me.
You CAN teach an old dog new tricks.
But what of the Young Person?
What of her?
You glance over, but continue your charade.
So polite.
I shrink back, forgotten, so many words in my head--
bubbling, bursting to break free from the cage.
You laugh (giggle) and compliment through smiles.
I barely know who I am.
Reality the stark thin thread, sharp and fragile.
Do you know the answer to You?
I stand withdrawn from the crowd--
waiting for you to approach the unapproachable.
My fault my fault. I know.
How can I learn that of which I don't know?
That of which I'm afraid?
How do children learn of Nazis?
Sugarplums to Neutron bombs.
Each in its own time, right?
They really love you. All of them.
Here I sitstandslouch away from it all.
This is why it's not me.
There you laugh, hug, quip.
This is why it's you.
Why it's always been you.
You of the emotion-eyes.
You of the wit.
You of the capability to laugh.
You of the talking with people.
All so natural?
So very foreign.
That is why I planned to cross the road.
I am unnecessary. The world moves.
Yet here I am typing, stagnant.
You are enough world for anyone.
They don't need me.
They'll never want me.
I am the Placenta of our culture--
only the 'weird' ones will eat me.
You CAN teach an old dog new tricks.
But what of the Young Person?
What of her?