Iceberg

On this iceberg, I am born

On this iceberg, I watch them

They are there, in the distance

On the shore

In pairs

In groups

In families

They share my skin

My face

My blood and bones

But they do not share this iceberg

I watch them

Share warmth

Share joy

Share their souls and their homes

I watch them learn

From each other

So I learn too

I learn to speak like them

Smile like them

Act like them

With no teacher

No parent

No partner

Here

On my iceberg

I watch them

Rip their hearts out

In exchange

Like gifts with bloody bows

So I learn too

I learn

To rip my heart out

But there are things that cannot be learned

Alone

On my iceberg

I have ripped out my heart

But nobody is willing to have

The heart

Of a child

That lives on an iceberg

They watch me too

They yell at me

That I speak like them

But not quite

That I walk like them

But not quite

That I am like them

But not quite

They watch me

And they say that I do not shiver

From the cold

But I do shiver

And tremble

And rage

From the frustration

Of my iceberg

So here I sit

On my iceberg

And I watch

I copy

I mimic

I fake

For I am a charlatan

Born with an iceberg

Wearing their skin

Their expressions are my mask

Their actions are my act

So here I sit

On my iceberg

And I watch them

Tether their hearts

With strings made of passion and despair

And I gaze at my own string

Slack and untethered

And I shiver

Not from the solace

Of the cold

But from the solitude

Of my iceberg