Raining

Selfie

What do you see when you look at yourself?

Dirt between nails diverged and decayed.
A ghost of a genius lusting for labels
to better understand the uncoiled ropes dancing deep in the abyss of the mind.
A meaningless statue deciding to matter or molder between crevices.
Creeping through scandalous doors by her design.
Lone sheets of vellum between notebook pages
patiently waiting in nooks.
Wishful musician mourning yesterday
tiredly yawning broken melodies as she escapes the now to enter tomorrow.
Craving to be poised and perfect
An itch to perform profoundly not yet satisfied.
Stepping away from what is to become of them.
A silent watcher resting on a make believe shoulder within her conscious.
Counting the days that have past.
Inside lies a painful bitterness like raw pecans residing beneath her tongue.
Yet she says nothing hidden behind her thoughts she wonders elsewhere
wary of the things beyond her.
She succumbs to the fact she knows nothing.
She is simply there.