my memories are not papier mâché
wrapped around my face,
they are the masked collage
that i do not wear.

my thoughts are not a cohesive train
riding on my skin,
they are a parking lot
filled of empty bins.

my words are not a hammer made of sickles
i carry around with me,
they are a set of locks,
each letter is the key.

my hopes are not the mourning dove
perched and singing songs,
they are the future flight
on top of warmer winds.

my fears are not the passing night
when darkness reaches peak,
they are a fading day
before my sun is done.

my dreams are not the crashing tides
where sand and salty seas will meet,
they are the day
i stand and feel this
all beneath my feet.

my days are not eternity
feeding an endless mouth,
they are the ache of hunger
for the beautiful feast of life
i cannot live without.