The Free-Use Vending Machine

I wanted to live, at least once,
To feel what it was like, to be alive.
I wanted to dream, and let go,
Without having to worry about the rest.
I wanted to breathe, like they all did,
And yet the first time I dared it,
Was the last time I did nearly escape,
Because it was a different hell.

I had wishes that wanted to bloom,
Dreams that willed to see life,
Desires that made me normal,
Hope that loved what I was,
But as always, it never mattered,
Never once got to see the light,
Because somehow, I didn’t deserve it,
The freedom of being a child.

So, I stuck my head in books,
Hoping to be seen by someone,
Yet still managed to be invisible,
Lauded in public when they wanted to,
Blamed in private when it mattered,
Haunted by the scales of ‘success.’
In a house that didn’t care to smile,
Perhaps I never deserved it, right?

Maybe that was why it was so easy,
To be the one on the sidelines,
To be abandoned when they wished to,
And picked back up like reusables,
Maybe I was never really the choice,
And I had to make peace with that,
In a house that bloomed so brightly,
One that gave people love… but me.

In the silence of it all,
My heartbeats remember the pain,
The agony of never truly being alive,
The pain of never being chosen home,
The hurt that comes with a perfect family,
While hoping that the music hides it,
That it never speaks in that silence,
But like always, not even my brain listens.

The cycle never ends despite the time that goes,
So, I struggle to stay afloat, perhaps useful,
Because maybe they will finally see me,
In the myriad of problems, they hold close,
Even when I know it’s stupid to hope,
And yet again, they prove me right,
It was never, can never, and will never be me,
Their cursed little free-use vending machine.