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Eggs

I always thought that people were like eggs;
like if you peeled back the shell and that filmy layer of fear and the white substance of things they do,
you would find some golden yolk of who they are
who they would be if there were no restrictions.

And that freaked me out because I was not
like this. I was a plastic Easter egg from Target,
you cracked me open and there was nothing inside. Nothing.
Every new day I felt closer to being discovered. Who knows when someone
would take a closer look and then there would be fingers pointed and downcast eyes
and hey! this girl has nothing inside her!

[I'm wishing] Maybe this is all a fairytale. Maybe tomorrow I will wake up
and the sun will shine and the birds will sing and I will take one big breath
one big, BIG b r e a t h
and I will inhale some fiber of myself and it will grow in my stomach and fill the
hollowness, so that when I smile I won't be so afraid
it will pop off and roll away. Like I will belong in a stiff cardboard
grey carton, dozens and dozens stacked up at the local grocery store.

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