The Mundane Artist

the calendar has cross marks, waiting for the day, for it to stop. when will it stop? the glaring touch; the mark left without a touch. why are you asking me? to wear appropriately, accusing me of obscenity.  why don't you ask them?  to behave appropriately, excusing them with sexuality. i look at my body in the mirror; i see scars. these scars won't be seen to the naked eye, now ingrained in me. i asked you; you roughly brushed it off my body. i wear what i want, but immediately want cover, because those claws come by.  i fight, i do, i promise.  but it's hard; hard to not bother; hard to not wince.  why is it that when someone cared they asked ME to get shelter, and not the other person to go away.  but the other person doesn't go away; he trespasses into the shelter you asked me to get. "Safe".. Ha. he trespasses further into me; i wonder where i went wrong.  when i told you, you washed me, you...

We stood face-to-face, And I could read her, see her,  But she couldn't.  She jumped in puddles, and wore torn clothes.  When asked her what she wanted, she asked for her parents.  I jumped away from the puddles, and wore the finest clothes.  When asked what I wanted, I am sure my parents weren't part of my wish.  But this doesn't mean, that she didn't want the glitz and glamour and comfort that I had.  But this doesn't mean, that I didn't love my parents.  Then, what does it mean?  She walked around bare feet, and slept on cold stone.  I walked around in my Stilettos, and slept with red duvets.  But this doesn't mean, that she wasn't comfortable.  But this doesn't mean, that I am comfortable.  Then, what does it mean?  She played with twigs and stones.  I played with Barbie Dolls, and pink everything.  But this doesn't mean, that she never enjoyed it.  ...