Satellites orbited the reliquary
Mechanical creatures humming
in extinct tongues of time
The archon of sublunary
Took us piece by piece
Up to the temple
To gaze upon its realm
There it knelt beside you
Bent-knee with fervor
for the shimmering humors
Holding the vessel aloft
Ruled by eons of darkness

February
Turns to April
Turns to August to December
The flowers bloomed
Long ago in March
Did you ever stop and feel
The sun on your skin
In May
Or did you only wish
It was September
To watch the leaves fall in November
Until it’s January
And another year's gone

I spent a lot of time wondering what was wrong with me. Can it be narrowed down to one thing? One fatal flaw to define this tragic hero? My downfall, attributed to one thing?
Apathy.

The lack of emotion, the lack of caring about anything.
In some way it stems from this innate feeling inside of me that I was robbed of something. I don’t know what.
Myself.

What am I but a tapestry; a collection of different people stitched together to make some chimera that just barely resembles something human.
A fabric with no identity of it’s own.
Robbed.

My individuality, stolen. By what? By who?
M_E.

Who is driven by such primal fear of being known?
Me.

Who refuses to know themselves?
M.E.

You cobbled something together to replace yourself.
You-- hated that person so much you tore them apart and scattered their pieces to wind.

YOU aren’t even happy with what you made.
A vile creature. Freak.

All you ever want is perfect, and yet you never are.
No one wanted to know you anyway.

Become someone else instead.

I just want to know
What was going through
Your head
That night you found out
Did it destroy you
Unmake you
You spent a lot of time
After
Searching
For what
In the end
I’m not sure
You thought you found
What you were looking for
Somewhere in the past
But it slipped from your mind
Your soul
An insect freed
From the clasped hand
Never remembers
What it was like
To be held between