Question marks are dropping and pooling around my ankles
and I can't feel my feet. Bloodless, but full of blood that belongs
to everyone but me, it seems,
and when dare to confront the mirror I am not sure who I see
because I have been crystallised and fictionalised
and handwritten in laughably horrible lies.
I can't say I don't know who or what I am anymore
because that would suggest there was a time
I was sure, but that's not right. Still, I barely know my face.
I don't know, I don't know
but it could be
my doppelgänger I see. I hope she's got my place
because she'll do it a lot better than me. I'll let her be.
