I am terror

bleeding anxieties

over the white linoleum

 

I am the overachiever

blasting doubts and hopes

until they break the silver linings

and the clouds float away without me

 

I am the voice in the dark

pinning you down like insects

on my board for examination

 

I am the zealot

piercing the never-ending veil of

It doesn’t matter

It isn’t real

 

I am the prophet

shouting from my Lost-and-Found

while everyone turns away

 

But I am also the little girl

hiding from the stars

kissing her bear goodnight

waiting for the morning