trapped

there's an itch in my fingertips. it buzzes, like a wasp trying to break free. my skin would bend in a cartoonish curve and resist.

it's not ideal. where would it go? i can see the sugared tops of the mountains, the oceans of fields below with sundrop flowers sprouting through dewy grass. they wave to me in the wind,

calling me.

my arm is outstretched, and i take one step but collide with an invisible barrier made of whispers and poisonous stares and guilt and glass.

the sun kisses my skin and i think a breeze grazes my face. but the grass is dry and I yearn to smell the flowers. a deer folds its legs underneath itself and i want to greet it.

im halfway there. too close, and not close enough. powerless to change the indestructible barrier between myself and life. of the deer and the bunny hopping towards it. of the healthy flowers but the hidden colosseum of roots under the soil.

there are shadows of people, distinctly my shape. the bunny jumps at one and the itch spreads, buzzing in my veins and heart and eyes.

i am not allowed.