days
stretch over lifetimes,
as if all the clocks in the world
       wore themselves out —

and certain mornings
i shapeshift

i create different molds for myself
to fit into
i do not know why i must change
but i do know it helps.

the scissors clip and
my hair floats as fallen feathers
towards the base of the sink

i wake up only to
not recognize the girl in the mirror
and greet her w a smile.

she is
sad.
and there are so many worlds
she wishes she was exploring.

i wish i could help her.

but all i do is hurt her,
and i do not know where to
begin
asking for her forgiveness.