Sharp

How am I supposed to live when I’m surrounded by sadness. How am I supposed to be when my foundation isn’t solid, when my foundation is made of glass. I want it and I need it to reflect who I am, yet it only stabs me. There are so many shards, they keep cutting me. How do I stand up straight when I’m getting killed by my own foundation? I keep picking at the shards. But all it does is cut me somewhere else. Somewhere I didn’t know was reachable. It’s cutting me from the inside out. Attacking my brain. Making me think things any sane person wouldn’t. Making me go crazy. It’s clawing from inside my throat every time I try and speak, it hurts. It hurts, especially when I do speak and I get stabbed. Stabbed for finally trying.