Mirage.

sight.

Nowadays,
I feel like I'm living in
a glass house.
The birds.
The streetcars.
The wanderers in the park.
Right in front of the
four walls,
stare at me.
But they don't see.
Nowadays,
I feel like I'm
Living
In a greenhouse.
And I have mistaken
Warmth for suffocation.
To grow more,
More than the requirement.
Like Alice in the
Rabbit hole.
I have grown,
Out of my skin,
And I feel like
My weight is sagging,
Dragging me down
I feel so heavy.
I can't fit into
The person,
I thought I was
And people think,
It's okay for them
To guess about my
Identity,
Thinking I
Truly have lost mine.
Fuck, would you
Believe me,
If I told you,
Cigarettes, and weed,
And vapours,
And Marxism,
And poetry,
And my ex boyfriend
Who I still love,
Don't define me.
I am not who,
You are making me out
To be.
And, I do tired of
My complacency of
Not correcting you
It doesn't matter.
You can perceive
The hickey on my
Neck as a symbol
Of Empowerment.
I only see it as a
token in the
Antique shop
Of a body
Lived in each day,
And forgotten.
I have grown out
Of my identity,
But I haven't forgotten.
I don't want to know,
What you think of me
Whether you clear
Your glasses that obscure
Your vision.
You see me,
As you want me to be.
But. I'm not her.
I don't know, who
I am.
I am, though.
I am.
But, you never see.