Sometimes, I feel like stained glass portrait,
Changing colors and shades with my surroundings.
Sometimes, I feel like a funhouse mirror,
Only showing people warped views of themselves.
Sometimes, I feel like a porcelain doll,
A breakable toy that is only moved by others whims.
People tell me to stand up for myself, to grow a spine.
But how can I do that when I don't even know who I am?
Being assertive can lead to strife and anger.
So I smile, I agree, I compromise, I avoid,
Because I stopped caring about most things long ago.
Sometimes, on grey, crushing days,
I can only find relief in sleep.
Sometimes I never want to wake up.