Glass pt. 2

They say, “You don’t deserve it.” But what if I do? I squeeze the glass tighter, And tighter, Because even if it’s pain, It’s still something. It still means I’m feeling. I leave my door cracked open, I lie in bed, facing the wall, But what if there’s monsters? What if they’re real? Aren’t you scared? I ask myself. But my monster doesn’t have claws. It doesn’t have horns. It has skin, it has hair — It’s human. Almost. But really... it’s a ghost. It haunts me, With memories of you, Memories of my past. My skin is glass. I feel the pressure, The push to say yes, But I can’t. The words — they don’t come out, And my glass cracks, Again and again. This time, a bandaid won’t fix it. I try to cover my thoughts, To wrap them tight, like saran wrap, To keep them fresh. But what if... What if they’re already bad?