On Display

My body is not mine.

This form you see,

Standing in front of you,

This bag of meat held by skeletal frames, 

Does not belong to me.

What you see as me is more of a museum, 

Displaying artefacts dusted off and held in light, 

Holding memories I refuse to recall.

It traps me in labyrinthian hallways, 

Under tall ceilings.

It holds me up on marble plinths, 

Calling out through foreign labels.

I can leave anytime I like.

Crawl out a window,

Pry a door open,

Climb the infinite stairs of a fire exit.

But you push me back in,

Wrap me in rope,

Tighter and tighter,

So I can’t budge an inch.

What life is this,

Shown in an exhibition

I was never supposed to be a part of?

What mercy is this,

Shoving me back into a body 

That is not mine?

Writer: Jessica Zahra

Editor: Shannarra Lupardo