~ a poem
My own existence confounds me.
The light finds me hidden
I steer the conversation away
Mirror only ever captures a silhouette
Not to be looked upon squarely,
I recede via volitions voided
And incontrovertible
I cannot will myself onto others
I cannot make anyone care about me
I do not want to have to
Certainly, I bear no ownership over this gift
My own existence confounds me.
And I do knot know what to do.
My own existence confounds me,
And I am awaiting an answer’s arrival,
Through much weeping and sighing
Drawing swords to cut through it all
Summoning violence I can volition
For myself
Onto my shades and phantoms
Unto my pasts and present
My own existence confounds me.
…
Where should I begin?
