Poetry: One

I see myself as a balloon
Floating higher and higher
Into the sky
Until I am nothing,
But a dot;
So small that to see me-
I have to squint
Until the space between my eyes
Ache
And I give up;
Telling the world
That I popped,
exploded-
Into a million pieces,
Sprinkling down like confetti,
Or fairy dust
Onto the ones
Who blessed me,
Even if just
With a
Smile.

I am told that I am more than
Just a piece of rubber,
filled with helium,
But I don't agree;
You see, the only difference
Is that my exterior is not
Rubber- it's skin;
But inside, I am
Laughter-
Helium;
I once was chosen,
Held while limp,
Filled with purpose,
Released, swept up
Until I became lost,
Until I had to explain where I was-
What I am.

A balloon brings joy
To children,
not to adults,
like me;
It gets grabbed into sweaty, excited
hands,
but then gets released
in the corner
of the bedroom,
bobbing against the ceiling,
seeking release, for it knows-
this is where it will be left
until the laughter
slowly seeps out, unsure of how
before it drops to the floor
where it shrivels away
into nothing.
Almost like me.

"You are not a balloon"-
I am told.
Of course, I am human,
even though,
most times,
I am not treated as
one.