The Glass Room

From my beginning,
you began to build,
such a structure,
to keep me closed.

As I bloomed,
growing older,
the glass still being
built higher and higher.

It was crafted so finely,
hard and beautiful,
such a long task,
to be where you wanted me.

Sometimes I would break
the lovely glass,
you would pick up the pieces,
with bare hands.

You bore the pain,
for I was young,
your work not yet done,
but soon I'd be closed in.

You tortured me,
locking me about,
in that lonely,
yet beautiful glass room.

I was your dolly,
from my birth,
supposed to be forever,
but now I'm breathing.

Out on my own,
the world was amazing,
much better than the
glass room I was once in.

The glass contained patterns,
your past etched along,
mine coming along as well,
I fueled your past's torturing.

You wanted me perfect,
but how could I be,
I wasn't even born normal,
and I almost died young.

I couldn't be a porcelain doll,
something expensive for you,
I used to wish I could be,
now I've seen reality.

'Tis only was a glance,
but enough for a chance,
I know you aren't an angel,
but I can't hate you.

You'll always be my mother,
for that I am grateful,
but you trapped me in a world,
a hard and cold glass box.

You intended to keep me there,
where I would surely despair,
a life so miserable,
did that happen to you?

I'm sorry your plan
has backfired at you,
but I'm not a doll,
I'm a person just like you.