Poems of an Ocean of Fish

When you are young,
You are meant to be protected,
Meant to be held and taught
How to live in a world
That is not always kind.
These protections and lessons
Guide us into who we are
As we grow older.

When a child does not get these things,
They teach themselves
How to live in an unkind world.
Every person who was meant
To keep me safe,
To teach me how to live,
Instead turned and attacked,
Left suddenly without footsteps to follow.

What they wanted, they took.
Happiness, sex, dignity, sanity...
It did not matter to them.
If they wanted it, they took it.

A teenager who was never taught
Learns to survive on their own.
Over and over I was shown
That people meant to protect
Have hidden intentions.
Over and over I was shown
That those meant to stay
Will instead stray away.

A teenager who was never shown
Anything other than loss--
Of control, of companionship--
Will assume that is their lesson,
And they will adapt.

No one can take anything from me
If I never give them
Anything of value to take.
If I can lower the value
Of every lesson I was taught
In the eyes of others,
Then what I give them
Will seem fruitless,
And therefore, they cannot take it.

No one will hold me,
Not because they refuse,
But because I will never allow them to.
If they hold me,
Then they would also hold
A younger version of me;
A version that was learning lessons
And losing pieces of myself
To the things I was taught.

No one will hold me
Because I will protect that version of me
Even if it means ruining
My current self,
Because I am made of glass.
I have always been made of glass,
And when that version of me shattered,
The lessons I was given
Came in the form of aggression.
When they were not aggressive,
They were empty.
The arms that barely, nearly held me
Opened, and I dropped,
Broken glass scattering across
Cold wooden floors.

No one will hold me
Because I have found things
That will hold me for them.
A high, a buzz, a haze.
A pen holding a drug
Cannot drop me when I run to it,
And a can holding a burning liquid
Cannot turn and attack.

If I let my lessons be of value,
Then I will surely break.
If no humor slips into my tone
And I speak of them
In the way they were intended to feel,
Cracks will spread through the glass
Like lightning splitting air.

No one will hold me
Because if I stand in their arms
And allow my lessons to have value
Then I will break,
And if I let myself break in their arms
They may drop me,
And I will be left broken and alone
On cold wooden floors once again.

I have tried to stay soft
Despite these lessons;
Tried to remain kind and polite.
But after so many nights
In pieces on a cold floor,
You teach yourself that
A cold floor cannot freeze you
If you are already frozen.

No one can take anything from you
If you never give them
Anything of value to take.

No one can hold you
Because you have to protect
That younger version of you
Even if it means ruining
Your current self.

A cold floor cannot freeze you
If you are already frozen.