Twisted Fairytales Poem by Abigail Hauschild

How did my life get so claustrophobic?
I’m standing naked in a glass room but the walls are closing in
A skeleton pretending she’s alive for an audience who doesn’t care if it’s true
People see the show they want to see
A reflection of what they need
Would they even notice if the actor left the stage?
Everyone’s yelling directions, corrections, and admonitions
Keep running
Keep talking
Keep suppressing
Stop running
Stop talking
Stop feeling
They only notice the imperfections
I only notice the empty cavity my heart should be filling
Where is God, the still small voice, in this cacophony of good intentions?
How can I still not know the right path,
If everyone is giving me the right directions?
When did transparency turn into puppetry?
I thought if I chose this new life
Id actually get to live
Instead I’m a marionette doll tugged and pushed and pulled
For entertainment?
For satisfaction?
For validation?
Do I get any say in the script being written for me?
I’m told I have power beyond measure
But I still feel like the same little girl,
Paralyzed and powerless against the world,
That I have been for 18 years
It’s not right to fight
It’s not right to hide
It’s not right to speak
Let others fight for you
Let others hide you
Let others speak for you
But no one else is there
When I need protecting
By the time my knight in shining armor arrives
He’ll only find a cold empty castle
Where a princess should have been
If this is a fairytale
I prefer tragedies