I can't find the me under the glitter

March 13, 2017
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I am dog poop dressed in pink glitter.
My odor threatens to push past the sparkles,
     the sparkles you put there.
You were too embarrassed of me, so you let me be
     another version of you wrapped in innocence and lies.
When a piece of me looms free,
     you take the glitter spray to mask the real me from the world.
It’s becoming too heavy and soon I’ll break down.
I’ll sink into the earth and pray that Terra will hug me,
     hug me the way you never did.
My stench of imperfection will fade and I will begin to believe
that the only me is you.
You have covered the way I am,
     thinking it’s worth less than the dog feces in the backyard,
so you’ve gotten into this habit of retelling memories to your friends,
memories that exist in the cracks of your world, but
     cease to exist in the real world.
I’ve become so accustomed to the ideas and hopes you have of me
that I can’t find the person you gave birth to, but
     you will find yourself the daughter you always wanted.
You won’t have to cover me in boxes of pink glitter,
the dog poop hardened and was forgotten.

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