Plastic and Porcelain

By Kirby Bezan

Rip open my skin

And take a look inside.

You’ve done it before,

But that sight must have terrified you,

Because you discarded me after that.

That’s all I ever was to you,

A toy.

One to toss around and harm.

Maybe I wasn’t a good toy

Because I could feel everything.

Every pinch, scratch, poke.

Every pull, punch, slap.

Every word, jeer, taunt.

Everything you threw at me.

Something of plastic and porcelain

Shouldn’t feel at all.

They are trophies to admire,

With their large, welcoming eyes

And delicate features.

My eyes always seemed to be wide,

But with fear and sadness

Caused by your reckless actions.

My features were never delicate,

A sin that you made me pay for

Every day of my adolescence.

And now it’s like I’m not worth your time,

Save for the few corrections

You want to make on my life.

Why do you want me to be just like you?

Can’t you accept me for me?

Love me for me?

Do you really think you’re so perfect

That I have to be just like you

Because we’re bonded by blood?

I don’t want to be another trophy,

Another mannequin,

Having to keep what’s inside my heart secret,

While you dress me

And whisper what I’m to say.

Keep the company you desire of me,

And look down upon others

Who’s opinions rival your own.

I’ll never be made of plastic or porcelain,

Just skin and bone.

Isn’t that enough?