Recreate
365 days later.
The air still feels thick.
My mind is still crowded.
Yet, my eyes still play tricks.
The people, still careless.
She still doesn't know who she is.
The author can't decide when the story begins.
Maybe they're already at the end.
But will the day turn to darkness?
Will their eyes regain focus?
Or will he stay devoted?
What if I became heartless?
I'm tired of being frustrated.
The wind cuts me
Just like a knife can.
Anger surrounds me.
Just like the horrible facts of life did.
Is it true that you can be reincarnated?
Because I think the original me is dead.
Copyright © Myjorie Wilkins | Year Posted 2008
|