Why

My brain
Does not comprehend this
Quite yet
But it’s here
Cutting me
Up

Am I such a slow machine?

There is a black blind behind my eyes
I can’t see
Myself in any mirrors anymore
There is nobody there
No reflection
I am not she
(And I did not become you)

How do I expect him to see me?

And home is a cold place
Full of smiles and love
And I am growing up to meet it
To be swallowed up whole
My whole
And loved

But where do I sit?
I see a lost garden chair
Dirty
In the middle of a playing field
With one broken leg
I am sat here
And stared at

And I forgot
I need to
Paint myself again
Myself of all those colours
And all those years
And me
Just mei

I must already be ready
Because it’s already here

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