I misplaced myself,
just like,
my favorite,
pen.
The mirror,
it’s broken,
a lack,
of reflection.
I’m not,
too sure,
what happened,
but I lost,
phone signal,
and my steps,
I didn’t print,
a mapquest.
My glasses broke,
I thought,
I made it,
home,
I’ll stay in bed,
I promise.
That’s just,
a tree,
instead,
blurred from,
reality.
This isn’t fair,
I didn’t ask,
for this,
she did,
I’m not,
her,
she’s already,
dead.
The mirror,
it’s broken,
I’m here,
instead.
A game,
I forgot,
the rules,
to play.
I don’t think,
this is something,
you could,
possibly,
understand.
From a person,
who isn’t,
a person,
just a bunch,
of swirls,
and squiggles,
that forgot,
how to,
get home.
I don’t add a lot of notes to poems, but I’m sure this one is hard to read. My seizures have recently gotten worse, and my brain is hard to really make sense out of. I’m not the same person, and this is my first poem since my last bad attack and waking up in the hospital. Thank you for being patient <3
