The Gift I Never Wanted

Wrapped tight around my neck,

like barbed wire in soft yarn.

Scratchy edges bite through my skin

while I pretend it’s warmth.

Colors clash like arguments,

bright and wrong in the dull light.

I catch my reflection,

red face pressed behind a window,

and wonder how to say no

without breaking the silence.

It hangs there—threadbare and false—

a gift I wore for kindness,

but carried like a stone.