Ich

Sun, 03/01/2015 - 16:12 -- Synapse

Location

I am closing walls and open doors,

A memory painted on the windows of your soul

In any color you like, as long as it is a shade of black.

 

I am discontinuous, a broken mirror

Glued together, dried blood in between the seams

Showing off the sacrifice of those who put it back together.

 

I am hard, but brittle, words hiding the words I cannot speak,

A stream of consciousness bouncing off the walls

And drowning out whispers of truth.

 

I am a non-conformist conformist, confused and elated

About that which I do not understand, and left wondering

What it will mean in the end.

 

I am night without day and day without night, volatile,

Everlasting, and fragile, at the mercy of myself,

At the mercy of myself and everyone who has ever met me.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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