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.