Spent.

You make me so very small,
Dwarfed by words that do not notice
The sting they leave on skin.

I am whatever you say I am.

These syllables aim to hit me hard,
Cloaked in humor,
Though they are transparent to the rest of us,
And we know what you've been up to.

I follow, a shadow to you,
Though my shape was formed so many years before,
(I am the origin, not the product)
And I try to keep you from harm,
A mother in ways,
Only to have this venom spit in my face.

It is so exhausting.

I do not know what to do.
I do not know what to do.
I am so much more than this.
I need more from life than this.
I am reduced to soil beneath your feet,
I am blooming in your apathy,
Struggling to rise above this shit.

I am whatever you say I am.