What has my brain done to itself,
In the name of protection?
I still get pulled out of my body,
A mere spectator of my corpse,
For it isn't a living body,
When I don't possess it.
I still struggle to remember,
So much of my own childhood,
An abyss of alleged memories,
That I cannot substantiate.
I still claim myself as parts and pieces,
To point fingers and divide feelings,
To always further deny myself,
Ever being whole.
I still say it isn't all my fault,
Previous events caused this,
Caused my brain to decide,
I can't always be me,
I can't remember what is me,
And I can't become me.