00bioshock00

It's all misused But I'm careful. Very much so Not to abuse it. After all I don't fit No shape fills me. These veins confuse me This whole organ, bad. I feel my skin, under The skin, under. Snuffed. Hostage to telltales Of how I slip through. But I don't see myself In gesturing mirrors. So maybe if I open up Just a little bit. I might show up more Just enough. To have a true glimpse Over the red Of my corpse.

Now I am curious, I am excited I look out this sacred window and I see smiles. Now I am melting, I am blurred I step out this sacred door and I see nothing. I am misplaced, this isn't what I was promised This isn't my body, isn't my body, isn't my body. I am panicking, this isn't what I worked towards This isn't my life, isn't my life, isn't my life. But I hear my favorite music box It's definitely playing just for me. Now I hear the voice of a woman She's definitely screaming at me. Now I feel the touch of a man He's definitely looking at me. But still I hear my favorite music box It's definitely not playing loud enough. I would like to look at- Please don't touch me. Could you come closer- Please don't touch me. Perhaps a warm embrace- Please don't touch me. But this is my safe space so- Please don't touch me, anymore. So now I avoid looking at their faces I don't want to meet eyes of strangers. So now I wake up earlier, in tip-toe sweating Hugging warm puppies and

Pick up your pieces No loitering, keep moving. Hey, keep picking up your pieces You are loitering, you are a bother. Pick up yourself yourself yourself yourself yourself You keep loitering loitering loitering loitering. Always you keep moving to pieces These trails, a bother bother bother. Pick me up pick up pick me up pick it up These pieces, is this me? Is this you? Are these my pieces or am I a piece of you? Does it matter? Does it bother you? It bothers me. Ah, but these pieces, have I been loitering? I'm a bother aren't I? To you? To me? It bothers me. These pieces we pick up, aren't you tired? I am. So, where are we going anyway? Home? Home? Ah, so this is why we loiter.

These gestures feel foreign These faces belong to strangers. They're not familiar to me But perhaps to someone else. These voices, this crowd These figures don't stand out. They're not alluring to me But perhaps to someone else. These memories are not mine These recollections, misplaced. They hold no weight to me But perhaps to someone else. Still I hold them dearly To replace this empty bliss Because they now belong to me And perhaps to no one else.

Sun rays reflecting off my dearest shining armor Things such as a white knight or a little mermaid Childish expressions of effortless meaning. In desperation and in unjustified miscalculation I have become a mother Ah, but surely mistakes can be fixed. Broken dolls scattered, crawling and moaning Clawing at my thighs, begging for affection Different versions of me, soon to be someone else. Nursery rhymes and lullabies, I recite them out of fear To keep away from broken jaws that came to be my own. The ones that ask for something I am unable to give. By the end of my thousand and one nights of storytelling In a fleeting dream, I saw my virgin self beside two boys One last lullaby, for the only human in this room. Where I was no mother, but a caring friend Where I had a family that I never gave birth to Where I smiled, despite not feeling any different. But once they looked my way, I understood And once I touched them, I knew for sure Just where I went wrong. Ah dear girl

Broken wings lying still on dirt Of unnatural shape and form Calm and collected in it's pose As if accepting of it's fate I shall shelter you from this cruelty I shall take you under my wings. But as your form takes shape You will no longer lie on his cage The airborne can only reach for the sky This is the only thing you were ever taught So I'll continue to bend you Just enough to be fixed again. As days pass foretold Don't be alarmed if you find Bent wings lying still on dirt Calm and collected in it's pose As if accepting of it's fate Shelter them from my cruelty Under your broken wings.

"Break... Break... Break..." He whispered to himself, breaking the mirror further. "You're going to cut yourself." I said as I stopped next to him. "Will I now?" "..." I kept quiet for a moment as he stood up. "What brings you here, anyway?" He asked, checking his hands for cuts. "I was following a strange smell..." "'Strange smell' he says..." "Hm?" I looked at him, confused. "I figured you'd know better than to follow 'a strange smell' by now." "Not sure I follow..." "Ah, you're doing that thing again..." He said, under his breath. "Now it makes sense why you didn't take an entire paragraph describing our surroundings." "..." "It won't take long now, I'm almost finished anyway..." He turned his back to me and started walking off. "Don't forget to wash your hands for me, there are some bandages in the bathroom." "..." I looked at my hands, now bleeding from cuts I don't remember being there.

Don't show me the world. Close the blinds. Lock the windows. Don't let anything shine through. A room with no vice. A room with no pain. No more hands covering your eyes. To what you've come to know. To what is yet to come. I cannot miss what I have forgotten. This perfect world. This padded cocoon. I will not emerge from here. I will rot. Until I die. Because any ending for me is a happy ending.

The day after. The adaptation begins. To realize the moment of absolute separation. To see this new-found distance is now as constant as it is raw. A loss. Of permutation. A picture in motion, one that you replay, time after time. Unable to add anything new. A fragment. A piece of yours truly. Does your frame respect the muse? Have you given it a little artistic touch? Looking back now. To tangible distances. Was your maladaptive capture ever accurate?

Do you see me? You do see me. Are you ignoring me? Do you hear me? You do hear me. Are you ignoring me? Are you ignoring me? Are you ignoring me? You are ignoring me. Do you hate me? Do you hate me? You do hate me. That must be it.