when I think of myself I’m never here
I think about who I am
and I think of
closed doors/white walls/music in my head
/patterns beaten into carpet
and I think of
sitting on the bus/living behind my eyes
/blank faces staring out of windows
and I think of
bright worlds/mundane things with people who don’t exist
/wielding a dagger of words/of misunderstandings
and tragedies/surviving and growing stronger
/of smiling in the face of peril
and I think of
betrayal/murder /being missed/growing wings
/becoming goddess/becoming wind/being loved
and feared in equal amounts/of people who don’t exist
still being there
and I blink
-it’s the same small white room
with a window that changes seasons by the hour
I think I don’t know who I am
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
when I think of myself I’m never here
I think about who I am
and I think of
closed doors/white walls/music in my head
/patterns beaten into carpet
and I think of
sitting on the bus/living behind my eyes
/blank faces staring out of windows
and I think of
bright worlds/mundane things with people who don’t exist
/wielding a dagger of words/of misunderstandings
and tragedies/surviving and growing stronger
/of smiling in the face of peril
and I think of
betrayal/murder /being missed/growing wings
/becoming goddess/becoming wind/being loved
and feared in equal amounts/of people who don’t exist
still being there
and I blink
-it’s the same small white room
with a window that changes seasons by the hour
I think I don’t know who I am
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