marble and quicksand - a poem collection.

helpless

i feel trapped.
i don't think i can keep this up,
i should be happy,
but i'm not.
and with every second,
i more and more sound like a cliché angsty teen girl,
even though i'm not even that.
i may look like it, but i'm not.
and even though this body grants me life,
i wish i could just rip it to pieces.
i gaze upon those perfect, achillean men,
and i am torn apart by
the longing to be
(with them?)
them.
i'm helpless
hopelessly devoted
to the dream of being me