Glass Marble Eyes

Setting down my suitcase

Under muted breath, I whisper

"One ticket Out of Here."

Unyielding is false reality

The last bus left long before I needed it

To take me away from the people

With glass marble eyes

And perfect, polished skin

All I have is a tattered notebook

To pay my keep in their world

Externally, I'll never care

If they block me out

At least I'll wait here, on this bench

Beside an empty, glass-eyed girl

Intentionally stirring me through apathy

She touches me, curiously

"What is it that you're made of?

Do you know your eyes are colored and squishy?

I can't see through you."

Maybe she'll take me apart

And find out why they made me breakable

Instead of perfect

Like her

I hand her my notebook

But she's not interested in poetry

Neither is her army of porcelain figures

Male versions of herself

They say they love me, even with my creepy eyes

And low-grade skin

Too bad I'm immune

She wonders what's wrong with me

But it makes me all the more fascinating

To those whose entire lives could change

At the push of a button