Snowglobe

In this crystal ball
a perfect diorama
frozen under the gaze of
others, who pick it up
and shake it around
desire to dislodge the pieces
scatter life’s components
like snowflakes in water.
 
White knuckles hold everything
in place, straining beneath
the weight of expectation
keep it together, lest it all
falls apart, the illusion
shattered like the fine glass orb
squeezed too hard by hands
demanding perfection.
 
Flawless is a state of mind
yours, not mine
I can be anything I want
except average
instead I waste my talent
trying to blend in
I can't hang back
with a hand in my spine
 
Your drive is relentless
I am buried beneath
your ambition for me
without a voice except
the one caught in my throat
screaming
I want something else.

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Amanda McLeod writes poetry and fiction in Australia. Her words can be found in Ghost Parachute, Pussy Magic, Royal Rose Magazine, and elsewhere; and she is the assistant editor at Animal Heart Press. When she's not writing, she's usually creating art or hunting down good coffee. She loves quiet moments, even more if they're outside. Find her on Twitter @AmandaMWrites