Inconspicuously Indigenous..

This body is not mine,
I am not sure who I am. 
This may be my first time down the path,
Yet I know I have been here before. 
The face staring back at me,
is not a face I have ever seen.
It says that it is me,
surrounded by liars.
What is there to really believe?
There was a comfort that I remember,
A warmth that wrapped around my bones.
I can always seem to miss you,
For only a fraction of a moment,
Before I chase it back to the cold haze behind my eyes.
The colors of the day have gone stale.
The voices of the world go mute.
Sinking in my silence,
halted by my blindness.
Searching for a reason to leave,
Still so committed to the tragedy.
The scars that adorn me,
The very things that define me.
The vessel is waste,
The landscape is a mess,
And there is nothing good left.


don't worry...die happy.