When I was small, I was told to smile

Or else I could never be loved,

So I smiled. 

 

When my uncle died,

They said I was too young to grieve,

So I smiled. 

 

Through cherry cheeks and tear-shined eyes,

I smiled. 

 

And when I cried, I cried like a ghost:

An unseen nuisance,

Unloved and gasping,

Through cracking sobs and moldy lungs,

Haunting corners and crevices.

 

Crumbling behind couches,

Breaking under chairs in our basement,

Where I spat up the sorrows that bruised me,

Spilling them on the floor like an abortion,

Cradling myself when comfort never came.

 

Afterwards, crawling out like a crippled cockroach

Onto soft, sun-speckled rugs,

Standing on a table to stare

At my rash-red arms and empty eyes

Shaking in a gold-framed mirror;

 

I saw -

My bones broken where they shaped me like clay,

My body bled, hollowed out, and scraped raw

To make room for everything they wanted me to be,

Ugly, weak, and worthless, I thought - 

How could I kill this creation?

 

If only I could've known, 

But I didn't. 

 

So I sucked my sorrows back in

And I smiled.