tell me from the beginning

beginnings aren’t questioned as much as an ending

each cut, bruise and graze i was lended from the universe were mine

my analytical eye saw each one form and heal

but the process isn’t recognised until the day you wake up and that injury is gone

 

i want to wake up

i used to swim in the waters inside of me

and if at any point i felt like i was drowning

my head was a lifeguard

my heart was a mother

but now i drink the ocean which leaves me with a feeling of thrist stronger than dehydration

i’m becoming sahara and the grains of sand are too weak to build pyramids

 

i slip through the cracks in dry land

i miss when my head used to be a hand

even if it was a tornado

am i strong? am i able?

when i entered a room i never looked for a label but now all i see is 100% cotton