My eyes may say "cool as a cucumber."
But that's just what I want you to see.
Because in reality, my eyes
Are aquariums of anxiety in disguise.

A repeating line of patterns of something deeper then memory
It's the motion of waves of wonder of maybe something like pain
A wanting to lessen to soften to gently lay my head down
It's not what's happening now

A crack in my mirror, right in the centre
splits my image into a thousand pieces
versions of myself never quite realised
all that I am and all that I could be
each fragment a glimpse into a path not chosen
fingers reaching out to touch the glass
dipping into the reflection, a pool of possibility
if only I could crawl through the looking glass
or break on through to the other side
would I miss this place
am I happier there

I just feel so alone.
I just wish someone would care.
i just want to not feel so **** alone.