I am bewildered by my life.
I am stumbling in the light.
I don’t know what’s left,
and I can’t turn right.
I built a false mind out of sticks.
Four years on, I’m taking it apart.
I’m not flesh, but only bones and skin.
Life has built me up, now it’s taking me apart.
I found an eraser sticking in the mud.
I thought it might help me to un-write.
So my diary is writ in smears and rips.
And I don’t know why I’m in a rut.
I saw a stranger in the sky.
I look up every time she coughs.
So I go quicker when I ride my bike.
And I get lost.
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