everything hurts
in this cage i built for myself.
i beg for a hand (to dismantle it),
and everyone claps.
i can’t handle it.
the cage is too strong; too weak is my grasp.
i’m clawing at bars with helpless hands,
struggling unseen, unheard, unknown.
unloved? no. (maybe, though.)
everyone keeps getting
everything wrong,
and they’d never notice on their own
however long i let it go on —
i need a hand to ease the suffering,
not applause for enduring it alone.