I Am

I
Am flesh and blood,
With a heart that bleeds
And lungs that breathe
And skin that aches
For the gentle touch.

I am real.

I am not a trinket
To be put upon the shelf
With a painted smile,
Shown around as proof
That all is well,
While a finger hides the cracks
So they can be ignored.

And I am not a good luck charm
To be worn around the neck
To right the wrongs
Answer all questions,
And make all troubles go away.

Nor am I a puppet
Or a parrot
Or a wind up toy with a key
To do or say or be
What I am told.

I bleed
I breathe
I ache
I feel!

Take me out of the box
That suffocates, 
And see —

I am me.