Sarcasm of those who find "quiet" ones unusual

                       Sarcasm of many. Why bother to love,
to extend tears to those who deserve nothing. Why
explain the layers of deep breaths expressing who I
am?
                        Why care so much when the dirt just
buries further? Ah because that is exactly who I
am.

                         One tiny voice that matters. One letter
of joy that expands. Yet, here, only tears welcome
the air. The single note is trapped inside and will
not fall into the wind.

                         You pick one divided subject to find
a way to root me. Hoping that the answers are
only skin deep. Though the wounds you seek are
swimming in my strands of genetics.

                          How still is the capability to find me
there? Trying to starve me to open up. Only so
you can thrash me against the glass points. How,
yes tell me how does that make you feel human?

                         Ah a moment to adjust, to rethink
your strategy. Yet did the understanding of the steps
taken even give you a glimpse of me? Did it? Do you
really think it did?

                        Perhaps, you like to believe so.
Perhaps you are well capable of walking away without
really ever knowing. Posture complete and
personality intact. Yet are you really sure?

                        Oh how I demand you to glance.
I invite your eyes to ask what your thoughts seek to
know, the true question that begs you to ask. Ah to
explore the quiet demeanor you find "just" to
laugh about. Perhaps your trashed bits of sarcasm
are only rubber balls against the expansive,
demeaning parts of my past.

                      I only hope that the next time you find
it "okay" to tease, stab at someone's comment or
their way of life, that you step down, back away. The
noted pieces of quiet I hold are trained, so well
manipulated and etched across my soul, my memories
that I hold refrain myself from laughing at your
simple ignorance. Sadly I remain quiet because the
wit I exhort would offend, or defame your presence.

                    So the pain, the silence I am underweighing,
carrying hard is an undercurrent of raging lava.
Burning me and I only echo tears. Yes my emotions
prevent me from being that vocal box, prevent an
accidental scrapping of nerves. I halt and you should
be amazed at that restraint endured.

                    Never will I seek the center of attention.
Never will I beg for someone to love or to miss me. Nor
will I ever ask for kindness. Swallowing hard my
diappointment in people, I tread on.

                   So back off in the simplicity of your
callous words. Entertain that I hold a greater
understanding. For that I pray that somewhere
in the day a heavy amount of exhaustion overcomes.

                    One noted slot I had pointed, explored
and given so much. Even, now, me displaying my
tender moments, I too, hold a level of sarcasm. How
else can I accept your imperfections?

                     Exhausted I am of being the congenial,
kind, reliable and demur Mary. Yet none heard me,
nor did any listen. So now, I too, must fade in
the wind.