I feel a creeping sense of my 17 year old self again.
Ayn Rand and Neutral.
How arrogant I was,
but only on the inside.
I was nothing to care about.
No wonder you found another to confide in,
I’ll think to myself, falling back into the worn patterns
of self sacrifice
as penance for not thinking I was
A duality of self deprecation
Is this not just another turn of the boat?
Spill my heart to myself and cut it into pieces
so I can throw them into the water,
make it feel deeper-
not just in colour,
but in pain.
I have learned nothing and everything.
Heavy-handed heart spikes and
I am no king-
steeped in Yellow
My stride has been broken.
A stranger has taken my place as their own
and I must,
Tear masks from eyes
so as to see
Where waves tend to not break,
but merely end,