Skeleton key

I am the prisoner, the handcuffs and the jailer

Are you there yet ?

Did you shed enough of your old self to earn the right to live ?
No you’ve totally changed for the better, but what do you have to show for it ?
Have you finally reached peace in your self-erasure ?
Do you feel in control of your destiny now that you’re hidden ?

You’re all snug fitting between the cracks, aren’t you ?
What are you made of to be so flexible, bending over backwards until you disappear to belong ?

Don’t worry, your self-awareness is not crippling you ! It’s impressive, actually.
You’ve calculated every possible outcome in your tiny den and no one will ever catch you making a fool out of yourself.
If you don’t try, you can’t fail !
Lock the door twice, stay safe from evil possibilities. Keep practicing the word “no”, just in case. Doesn’t it roll off your tongue so easily ?

Mock the brokenhearted, you deserve it for being so strong.
Look down on their weakness, their unnecessary faux pas, their disgusting humanity.

You’ve done the work on your own. You’ve killed your darlings, stripped the thorns, ripped the roots, smoothed the edges.
You took yourself apart, brick by brick, and it all makes sense now. You make sense to yourself, congratulations !

You’ve collected all the mismatched pieces and exposed them on neatly organized shelves. Here you sit, pretty and passive, a ghost in the machine, a void wearing the face of a woman.

The museum of you is catching dust, overflowing yet eternally unfinished.
No room left for the future, but who cares when you’ve improved this much !
Here, look at the labels under the yellowing pictures, explaining all the flaws you’ve tamed and conquered.
An art piece defining itself through everything it isn’t.

What’s left of you now ?

Hi, I’m broke ! Leave me a tip here :

Thanks for reading me,

Marie.