Ich

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.