the glass child

i am everything i was ever supposed to be

i am perfection embodied into a 

comprehensible human form. i sit poised, 

back perfectly straight as i overlook my domain

the life i curated for myself. everything is

perfect, precarious

one sneeze & it'll all crumble to ash & fall

i can't have that, so gorilla glue &

clear duct tape patch what i cannot fix. no one

is allowed into this world because they cannot 

understand it the way i do, how

precision is the name of the game &

perfection is not merely strived for but achieved here.

i float lightly because weight & gravity 

hold no control in my domain; i don't allow

heavy things here when i'm destined to fly. my wings

ache from constant use but my darling glassblower

mends me in four minutes and fifty-three seconds, sending me

on my merry way before the final chorus. who has time

for superficial weaknesses when there is too much to do

& not a long enough eternity to complete it in? so

instead i will polish my world

every second of every minute of every hour of every time frame

in my lifetime until the glass is so

pristine i can see the reflection of air. but if i clean & polish

too much, i might just realize that the

reflection of air i see is a crystal dome

capturing my little world

& i might just realize

i am not in control of my perfect, beautiful little world

i never was & never will be.

signed, 

the glass child