You and your kind

You say I am beautiful
Don't you have any other words for me,
Or is it always just to get what you want—
Then you ask why I don't smile more,
That I should share my happiness with the world
Because no one's going to want me as I am,
By which you mean "miserable."

But you never asked why I don't smile
I might've told you if you'd been serious enough,
If your agenda hadn't pricked through this guise of yours.
No, I don't think I was born this way,
It's just how things have shaken out.

I once opened doors. Now? No.
I once spoke without needing to.
But who listens who does not see advantage in it?
I am not a brood-mare, I am not a portrait to appreciate.
Not by you, not by anyone.

No, it's not flattery if I see where you're going.
No, it's not politeness if I know what's beneath it all.
So the crossed arms, the downcast eyes.
You mistake these for being cold, but I am only protecting myself.
And, yes, I smoke now because I need something
To make me feel alive even as it's killing me.

It's not alone. Though you'd never admit to it...
You and your kind.