I am as much my mother as I am myself

As much a child as I am this grown thing

As frightened by as I am hardened to my concepts

That I may be nothing but recycled time

I may be so far within my mind that I am lost

My body may be made of fragmented reflections

That I am not immune to breakage

I will hold desperately to my fears seeking guidance

They will lead me to questions

That I should never have asked

Answers that will destroy my will

Knowledge feels like acid guilt when it comes up

All over your clean, clean floors

I didn’t mean to

I didn’t know