Brittle

I wish I could tell you I was different then,

that I was happy, content, just a child,

but even in early budding years

I knew something was brittle.

I wish I could tell you it's because of divorce,

or a trauma, a scene, a fight in between,

but even in the first dawns of my days

it was nothing but my mind.

I wish I could tell you, blame it on the parents,

put it down to that event, let it soak in the past,

but there is no reason behind me

I just am this way, I am brittle,

I was brittle before my first tooth,

before my first gaping hole nightmare,

before the first, small innocent cuts of youth,

I was brittle even in the womb.

I tried to soften my mind, with fairy liquids and

powdered promises, dusty stained hopes,

But it was brittle before life threw itself at me,

so I am liable to fracture when submitted to stress.