Who am I but my brain and what was put in it
I look in the Mirror staring into my eyes without faith of what's
The mystical curtain is dropped
Everything just is
Still unidentified but seen in the Mirror
I remember when I didn't have to fear staining my clothes with ice cream.
And I don't want to have to remember what time it is. Always.
I'm not a little girl anymore.
Band-Aids are still left on the shelf since childhood unused.
The feeling between opening up but being closed at the same time
I contain myself but don't want to be contained
You can still talk to someone through a closed door
People will still hear you behind it
You just won't be that loud
The conversation will be poor
I'm open but closed at the same time
I think using words to create meaning is like creating a word with a new definition.
— The End —