I have not known myself in quite some time. Although my reflection is clear, my aura has changed and my being is lost on some other astral plane-- unattainable.
I lost myself the day I lost control of my own body; the day a man took something from me that I am unsure I can ever get back. People watched my demise and rather than victimized, they criticized. I said no, yet I am a hoe, and a whore, and the scum between an ogres toes. I said no. So why do I suffer? When will my soul find the peace that was stolen? When will the disconnect between myself and the injustice done to my being come together like the pieces of a puzzle and allow me to glow again? My aura is as bleak and empty as an abandoned mine. I am cold when all I seek is the love of the sun. I want to be yellow and instead I am nothing. The air has the weight of the universe and gravity anchors it on my lungs. When will I catch my breath and cut the anchor loose? Calling this anxiety tiresome is the most under-exaggeration in the history of hyperbole's. Will my reflection ever match my being or does disconnect grow over time?
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