• I relentlessly put on my sweater, ears ringing of wake and the taste of morning on my lips.
    That morning, I had on nothing but the shame on my back and the name I had lacked.
    The hope that faded and the doubts that shed as my hair had.
    It brought me comfort to listen to collisions of repose and the silence of stillness.
    Our last known enclosures and the last note of utterance.
    In my quality, I didn't know what was right from wrong.
    Things seemed to blur from there to here, and my vision begin to stir to my structure.
    My trembling hands had no control of longing, desire, my eyes burned from tired.
    Lack of feeling had me withering and my head swirled with let me back ins.
    I made small steps, carefully studying my movement, steering my involuntary gestures.
    I tapped my finger against my thighs, nervous of unknown predicament.
    The rain trickled down my arm, and I felt it chilling my vein, and engulfing with blue blood.
    Following with my eyes and I had traced memories of trailed lies.
    From the voice of another to the hands of a brother, to the shock of a mother.
    I watched as the world captured each deception and reluctantly believed it as its own.
    I didn't know what to do of it, so I left it be and continued on, tapping away nervously at my thighs, hoping for a better way to start my day.