Skeletons

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I wake up every morning,
And clothe what's left
Of tired bones and ash
In false truths of skin and beauty.

I tell everyone "I'm fine."
I smile at them warmly,
Waiting for someone
Who sees through my facade.

I come home every night
And look at myself in the mirror,
And for a moment,
I see what they see.

I see a bright smile,
A healthy glow,
Two shining eyes,
A happy girl.

But then
I notice what they miss,
The bags under my eyes
From a sickness that roils beneath the surface.

I notice the turned down sides of my lips
From too many fake smiles,
The tinge to that healthy glow
From the darkness threatening to envelope me.

I sigh and walk away,
Climbing into bed to sleep,
Welcoming any form of release,
Before getting out of the bed in the morning,
And starting all over again.

Maybe someday I will break this pattern
Of hurt and pain and loss,
Of misunderstanding and misery,

But not today.

I got through the motions
Over and over again,
Forcing lifeless lips to take a breath,
Forcing these bones and ash to live again.

I go to school,
I finish my work.
I watch as bony hands
Complete tasks created by plastic people.

I go through the same motions
Over and over again
Until one day,
Something changes.

I find someone
Not made of plastic,
But rather,
Made of glass.

And maybe,
That was what I needed all along.
A friend
Who was as broken as I was.

Another
Who understands
Crippled bodies,
And fractured minds.

I guess life is hard,
And maybe it is,
But sometimes
Skeletons
And glass people
Can find a way
To heal broken bones,
And mend shattered hearts.

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