My neurons are sliced right through the middle.
Connections scatter in desperation;
Half of who I am,
Half of what I say,
Even the food I ate-
A gift to my intellect, you remain.
The brain that now seems so far away-
You leave me half-witted.
You take the me out of what I used to be
My conciousness is riddled
With flash photographs of yours.
I'm sorting through the carnage
What half is mine?
What half am I?
Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 4:21 PM UTC
My neurons are sliced right through the middle.
Connections scatter in desperation;
Half of who I am,
Half of what I say,
Even the food I ate-
A gift to my intellect, you remain.
The brain that now seems so far away-
You leave me half-witted.
You take the me out of what I used to be
My conciousness is riddled
With flash photographs of yours.
I'm sorting through the carnage
What half is mine?
What half am I?
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