“It’s easier this way,

It’s better for everyone,

It’s better for me,”

That’s what they say.

But I am not sure if I believe them.

Who knows how many lies they have told,

And how many they continue to say.

They keep me —

My “sick, fragile” body —

In this blurry bubble.

I wish I knew what they looked like.

They don’t tell me how to clean the film.

They don’t give me the correct supplies.

I can’t see properly.

What do they all look like?

What am I doing right?

Am I doing anything right?

Will they tell me?

I hear them all giggling,

And I see their fuzzy silhouettes pointing,

At the weird girl in a bubble.

I’m all alone,

Will someone be my friend?

Will anyone talk to me?

Or will they just watch and laugh?

Please teach me how to look after they bubble.

I want to look at them all,

I want be human.

I want to prove them wrong.

I’m not the “sick, fragile person,”

That they all make me out to be.

I want them to see.

They will see me,

I am human too,

I can be human too,

Can I be human too?

(I like this // I think it can be interpreted as metaphorical and literal it’s cool but idk please tell me!)