Don't Try and Burn Me With Your Eyes

What are you looking at?
I am different
I have a story
I have memories that yours shiver at
I don't have happy-go-lucky cupcakes and rainbows
I have stories
Pages filling books
With spines marked with lashings
Because I am a slave of my life
I am bound by this leather skin
And beneath scribbles and white outs
The crisp black ink remains firm
Your curly-q font in hot pink colors
Can't hoard the times new roman fate
This horror novel that ends with murder
In the center stage of my world
And your perfect body
With your perfect health
Is a coward
Because you will be at the end of your life
Dying of nothing
You might have awards for stuff you did
But you don't have accomplishments
You won't be remembered
You are made of the same silicone
As every other perfect doll
You tell me I won't get anywhere
And maybe I won't
But my dreams are worth more
Than the pennies you save not pursuing yours
My world isn't contained
Within four white walls
With antique murals
You don't even know the history of
Those paintings have more memories than you do
Those portraits have tears more real than yours
Because they have a purpose
You cry at lost objects
They cry at lost creativity and imagination
Those urns you place on your shelves
Once contained the ashes of what I am
They carried me
Open the top
And listen to the stories