Who is she who stares back at me?
You know, most days I don't recognize myself.
When I look in the mirror
Everything but my eyes are somebody else.
And I've gotten used to that.
Used to just living in a constantly changing shell.
And some days,
All I see is the little me.
Her wide empty eyes burning holes into me
Begging
For someone to save her.
Save me.
But no one comes.
Then I have those days
When the mirror looks crystal clear
And I think
I've finally cleared the level I've called Hell
Only to realize,
I've been walking against the current.
Still in the same place.
Who is she who stares back at me?
Who's body do I reside in
Who do I control if I am always out of control of myself
And yet,
I remain conscious.
Remain mindfully aware of the way my skin tries to suffocate me.
Of the way my organs try so hard not to fail me
Despite my worst efforts to sever my mortal connection with them.
The way my eyes imposter me
Who is she who stares back at me?
Because it's not me.
YOU ARE READING
Amphigory
Poetry"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings; it takes its origin from emotions recollected in tranquility." -William Wordsworth An amateur collection of my dark poetry, spoken word, and deep late-night thoughts. ***{ONG...
