She was kind,
She was beautiful,
She was serene,
She was perfection.
But her kindness was mistaken for easiness and her beauty was mistaken for her worth,
The serenity she held was mistaken for passiveness and apathy,
Her humanity was stolen.
She was a porcelain doll, fragile and only to be looked at,
She was not someone, but something.
Not something respected, but something to be possessed.
She was to sit and watch.
Everything was to be done for her,
In fear that the joints which held her together would disappear just like the hope she once had.
The glass she was made of was much too fragile, so she was bound in a glass case,
Her hair fell out,
The sunlight perpetually searing her scalp became too much,
Her doughy eyes became as glassy as her skin,
Her once rosy complexion was sallow and sunken,
She became too big a burden to take care of,
She was yellow.
But she did not feel yellow like she once did,
She did not feel like the sun was welling up inside her about to burst,
And she did not feel bright and untamed.
She was the heat stroke that came from the summer day that prevented you from pushing yourself up,
So much so that you can't breathe,
Can't think,
You are pressed so far down into the cracked earth,
And your limbs have lost all ability,
And all you are is frightened glassy eyes because no one let you speak or learn.
No one cared to help you,
Only possess you.
And the result is your worst fear.
The result is a life unlived,
A life of suffocation,
Because of the deceptive love you were taught,
A life of chaos.