They put us in pink.
Oh how delicate in that pastel hue.
So delicate that at any moment
We may just
The expectation is dissolution.
Our every emotion stood up
One blow is all it takes,
But who wins?
Whoever threw the ball, of course.
Who determines that possession?
Those not plagued by this idea of sensitivity.
Their traits act as currency,
Buys them a one way ticket.
So we crash.
Our poised vulnerability disturbed
By their barreling velocity.
As if by design.
But still we apologize.
Sorry I was hit.
Sorry I could not defy the laws of physics
To stand tall
So what are we left with?
A default to failure
By their design.
Even when we live perfectly,
As those delicate little flowers we were told to be
We suffocate in the paradox.
Be gentle, but weather every storm.
Be soft, but unbreakable.
Be kind, but never sensitive.
Because heaven forbid we be sensitive.
And feel all of the
Feelings of the world.
Our capacity for this absorption is what makes us vulnerable.
Vulnerable to that barreling ball.
The one that decimates us
Again and again.
For living up to every standard we are told.