Squishy, tiny little human hands.

Expression is not a limit
It is a thousand moments of decision
To open the door
To say the thing that burns you when you take it out of your heart
To accept and forgive yourself
Expression cannot be hidden,
Only changed,
Masked,
Exhaustively.
When you spend your whole life pretending, the masks you wear each change an -
aspect of your perception
They narrow your vision
Make your voice Hollow and plastic
Soften the sharp retort of breaking branches
Dim the fireworks of touch
And layer the world not in security
But the ghost images of everything you fear
Seen most clearly by you, refusing to admit them
Refusing to be open, broken
Vulnerable.
Like we all are,
Tiny, scared,
useless sometimes,
squishy people,
squishy people.

(https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8jlma0/a_poem_for_my_father_that_i_hope_hell_never_read/dz22fji/?st=jh8lqjgi&sh=09442887) (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8cb0tk/a_daily_occurrence/dxe32ao/?st=jh8ls22o&sh=b6e56e96)