CAUGHT UP

I am caught up in the days unraveling, wait; see
not ready to accept, to be left empty, unlovely

counting the miles to go, I am lost; I,  unable to find
my way through, minutes strike down, the hours blind

like grains of sand; to descend, bury me whole; my plea
day for night, to **** over and over, look away from me

there, deep within the image, myself; missing, mirror at my side
with eyes still blue, they say are there, beg to differ; who am I?

lost somewhere else, being the stranger who stares back at me
unable to fight back, or to find, outside image, form of identity

my head down between my knees, nothing more the same
fighting apathy before anger; full of shame, wanting; who to blame

got mystery, of why me? as if every single strand , falls rejected
loose one by one or many; a single brush stroke, to be collected

gathered up, one by one; naivete left on a brush, was meant  
for now I know; I am not like everybody else; different; better

by Michael Perry