sparkles/splinters Sam Hadley

You see an ice palace, Iridescent heaven, Glimmering from the sunlight Which caresses it.

You see a girl with her brothers Laughing into the sky, A girl who is easy to love And hard to let go of. You see a family, So symmetrical and soothing You almost look twice - but you don’t. You don’t want to shatter the vision.

You told me this was utopia, But I never saw that.

I followed that girl into her bedroom

And watched her exhale as she put down that perfect little dollhouse she had to hold together, Pressing so hard to conceal the thunderous cracks

The wood splintered and snapped into her skin.

You never had to hear her wince as she slowly, carefully pulled out the fragments, Or look at her as she scrubbed the bloodstains tangled with guilt off her skin.

Do you see her now?

Crawling towards the mirror, Her and I meet, One girl, two lives -

The actress and the spectator inside of us, Who is begging to be set free, Who knows that this heaven is just hell disguised in a cavernous heart,

That those open arms are cruel liars just waiting to give us scars. We touch the glass.

We cannot escape the gilded cage,

So instead we tidy our pretty pink dress And fix up a sweet smile, Ready to face our family once again. Are you sure this is utopia?