Creature

i am a secret deep well.

my friends are bucket-bearers without

the courtesy of understanding--

(i am a sad story my friends

have the privilege of looking

away from.

they always turn their heads

when it gets to the good part)

--they plunge their hands deep

inside me and coax out

the brackish dark blue

and recoil before they reach

the gold.

i wish i knew nothing for then

i would not hurt.

i wish

my wishes

came true--

i am choking on coins--

i wish i could turn to ice

all the way through instead of

just on the surface.

my friends carve fishing holes in me

and leave when i take

the bait.

i am a mask

wearing a mask wearing

a mask

wearing a mask.

i do not know my own true face.

(i fear if i were to cast off my

façades i would find

nothing hidden underneath)

i am full of discards. i am full of dreams.

i spend every waking moment

wishing i were still asleep.

i know my friends do not like me

because the murky water that

i am

always shows them

their own reflection--

they do not want to believe

that i am not

the only broken one.

when i emerge

from the well of

my body

i am

an unsightly monster,

dug out of the aquifer,

reaching with clawed

hand to anything

in my grasp--

(you, you, you,)

--and nothing reaches back.

so I reach inside instead.