148

I belong to no one.
Attached to no one.
I may be a daughter
born from both a mortal womb
and nature’s eternal nest, but
those strings have snapped
I feel detached,
a single breathing object–
if these shallow heaves are breaths–
in a world of sticky tangles,
where sympathy is a modern sham.

I witness much, perhaps too much,
For now I care less and less,
My heart has turned inward upon itself,
Feeds from slow and steady blood.
Nothing external is edible,
I’ve chewed upon the pains of others before,
only to regurgitate their hidden claims
my conscience will have none their strings.

I’ve dissociated. Disappeared.
Into a state of emotionless,
Reality just a web of perceptions
I refuse to play my part.

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