Me. Myself. My other self.
Hold court
In this big black box
Protected

Against the chill
Of the outside world.
Long fingers. Accusing stares.
Waiting, forever

For me to fuck up, to screw up,
To throw it all away.
I find I can't face them
So I turn inward.

Antisocial. Maladjusted.
Frightened of the world
That I once called
My home.

Frightened of the people
That I once called
My friends.
I know it's bad.

I know there is something wrong with me.
It's not so bad
To stand out,
To be red in a field of blue.

It's not so bad,
So why do I lose my breath
When my petals bein to show?
Why do I wait,

Muscles tense, twitching eyes,
Fearing the gaze
Of the world?
Why do I stand,

Arms crossed, legs ready
To spring at the first sign
Of tension or trouble?
Once I was brave.

Once I knew
I am I am I am
Now, I only know
I am not.

Once I was brilliant.
Now I stand obscured
By darkness, by fear,
In this black box,

Growing smaller by the minute.
Once, I knew I am,
Now, I know I am not.
But where do I go from here?

© Jess Fitzgerald, 2002