violent thrash of a sword
to the fortress
that i call home.
there is always some
silver coin
or biology
that takes from me.
i have no one, but…
individuality and religion.
each destined to be stolen from me
yet i will not surrender
like the blue girl
that lurks by the docks
resembling the runny river water.
i will not lose the lens
that formed me.
the end of the tunnel
is bleak and empty.
there is nothing to hold your flaky body
if you don’t have the lens.
what do you see in your reflection
if not an extension of what you dislike the most?
the inner workings of you
are strikingly wholesome
but the lights within you
are soon to be stomped out.
when you change yourself for the unforgiving blank void of life,
what is there left but a shell of fool’s happiness?
the point in feeling whole is
lost. my hands tremble, a stormy body
on the edge of today. and what is it worth
if not living for the truth? what is it worth
if my existence goes completely unacknowledged?
who will be themselves?