This

Part of the book of poems I'm putting together

Life is not a movie
I've told myself this before
My world is not a painting
Hung upon my door
This place in which I'm living
Is real and it's happening
It's now and it's forever
Permanent and indestructible
I cannot repaint the past
Nor can I fast forward to the future
And after the edit has been made
There's no turning backwards
The water that stains the canvas
Remains
It sticks to my skin
Everyone can read my script
But no one can see the subtext
Everyone can see my choice of cobalt over ultramarine
But nobody knows who's face I've coloured in
Unless I tell you
Which I won't
But I will say this
Keep yourself distant
Because one day I may
I may say everything
I may tell you what I know
And that day will be the day no one will see me for who I am
Only what I may be thinking
What I'm thinking is not necessarily who I am
It may be a reflection
But it is fuelled by desperation and hormones
The need to feel loved and the need to expel hate
The desire to cope and the willingness to fall apart at the seams
I don't even know what has taken over me
Is this me?
Do you see me?
I've lost my face in the mirror
Where is the reflection?
All I see is a smeared makeup stain in the upper lefthand corner
Of my mind
Where I stay silent
Where I do not speak my mind
Where I hide
Where I am afraid to say my reasons
What are my reasons?
If I knew I might say
But I do not for they too are kept locked away from not just you
But me
It's safe there
So no one can hurt them
Or I may not hurt others
What is this?
These words?
They are not mine they must be someone else's
I'm willing to bet someone has breached the safe
Lucky them
The words now flow
It's all your fault now
All you fault
Your fault
But I'm not one to say
For what do I know?
Where is my mind?
Not here, I say
Not here
Or was it me?
Was it someone else?
An imposter posing as one who knows otherwise
An imposter
A face
A mask
An alter perhaps
I'm not crazy, at least I hope not
Shove those meds down my throat it's alright
I'll be fine one day
I'll be fine
Be fine
I ask once more
What is fine?
And how does it apply to anything I've ever said or done
I talk a mile a minute not knowing my own thoughts and yet
You say
How are you
I say
I'm fine
Is that a lie?
Am I lying to you?
Or am I just lying to myself?
Lying
To
Myself
And others
And you of all people
You of all people
You