Wearing Ourselves Poem by Susan Adams

You dare to part the grass to find the mirror.
Pain carves you out of different stone
but you fight to become similar,
to know the thrill
of fence posts standing in lines
where only the nails are bent
in strange positions.

Few accept themselves.
Turned by the views from others
the light that bounces us is cracked
distorting our image.
We can't find the buttons of ourselves
yet stories are made and told as truths,
fodder with teacups passed around, chewed.

We hide in our banners, furled.