Once the chair is broken

It’s legs are broken

Just like my heart

It’s splinters are poking out of the wood

Just like my appearance

That’s what catches them right?

What brings them to shout.

To laugh.

To point.

But I just don’t get it.

Why do they do this?

Why do they judge me like that!

Can’t they see I’m broken too!

He says they’re just joking.

Just go along with it, It’s okay…

No.

But it’s not okay.

No, it’s not.

They whisper as I walk down the hallway, and they expect me to not hear them?

But I do.

“Witch”

I try to laugh with them.

But I can’t.

Those words hurt…

Like shattering glass.

But there has to be something that hits it right?

A rock?

Just like the words.

I tell them to stop.

And they just stand there laughing.

Their voices becoming a rollercoaster.

The tall one stares at me with a devilish grin.

I try to get out, but I can’t.

I try to hide everything.

Make it seem like I’m happy all the time.

That”s what i do.

I feel like if i make everyone happy then they will feel good about themselves.

Because when they're happy I feel like I have something to live for.

That there’s something that’s good about me.

Not something they try to make me feel bad about.

Does that make sense?

Probably doesn’t.

But that’s the only way I can get out.

In words.

Like how trees grow layers

And then they get cut down.

And then earth’s people use it to make furniture.

And then it becomes a chair.

That will go through so much..

Until it breaks.

Until it’s had enough.

Of the world.

Of its people sitting on it.

Then it stays there,

Broken.

Like.

My.

Heart.