Somewhere inside of me—somewhere
recluse and disembodied—dwells
my various selves that have been
created out of malleable delusions,
whipped into tangible forms
as my one true self deforms, and grows
recalcitrant to my rule.
This intermittent decomposition
of the soul, occurs slowly, while the
mirror loses my reflection
and disfigures my image into
something uncanny and utterly twisted,
turns me into someone I cannot bear to look at.
I cannot live like this anymore.
It is then the portions of my character
stirs with unease, refusing to hide and
scurry in the ditches of my uncertainty
any longer. They thud against my
left temple, wanting out, erupting
from the crevices of my body
and burning my skin. I don’t think
I can hold them in and I shall not try to.
This damned rebellion! The shattered
pieces of my desires waging a sweet war against my
throne of false security and comfort
forcing me to open my eyes, giving me pain
and granting me hope. They yearn for the light,
and I yearn to be free, and on the battlefields
we meet, wanting to be whole, whispering to
each other a promise that will bind us,
forever and ever,
until death do us part.