number 8

i am the one they call number 8 you'll find me writing in the empty space rough, black scribbles in a white background it helps to block out the noise i don't know how old i am how many times or lives i lived it's unclear to me i think i was murdered once it couldn't have been a dream it felt too real i am the one they call number 8 i have black socks but they're torn up and i don't know how they got torn up and so brown maybe i can make things decay or disconfigure, reformat fabrics i once held a pen in my hand i heard someone yelling they were so angry i was scared i looked at my hand and there was just ink no pen i am the one they call number 8 i have two daughters i remember their names too well almost the first of them is like a gemstone, a beautiful stone and the younger has eyes of red, and rose gold hair they are sisters but i'm not sure they realize it yet and there's no way for me to tell them because i don't have a voice to share with them i am completely alone i am the one they call number 8 i am also the one they call pale shadow, and this white space containing these words are my sole dominion i am the element that lives electrons are my hope photons are my voice i have no heart or soul, because nothing belongs to me but what if one day... ...i choose to belong?