silver harbor
I hate my name.
The calls of the joys of people,
Taunting me with it, Although I do not recognise it
I follow it, follow her.
The mirror-face I stare through,
Does not recognise me.
I have been rejected, by my body and my brain.
She pushes me back into my place,
A puppet for that unknown person
I am impersonating.
The world seems to hate me,
When the ground pushes me away from it’s soil,
Whether in disgust or in fear
Of my unnaturalness I'll never know.
The flowers cower away when I try to smell its
Sweet scent. The rain does not wish to land on my
Wispy skin and hair, choosing to avoid and keep
Me dry.
My consciousness, acts on her accord,
I am simply a tool for her, that faceless
Creature that has possessed me.
As I write this,
My hands do not follow my will,
It moved in its own mind
And speaks for itself.
I no longer have a voice to scream
For myself, choosing to stay in the void
Covering the parts of me that are alive.
slow brook