Intermingled Probabilities

Wide awake at 2 AM,
I have a torrent of storms
awaiting to drown me

boiling, raging, gushing..whirlpools
pulling me in violently.

With nowhere to be safe,
I plunge in the black tides
on my little vessel of dreams

memories that are calm and safe
and write verses of hope
tucked in a world of fantasies
to scatter in the universe
and travel back to me someday.

I look in the mirror
stare at the real me

Metal scraps on clock ticks
Mould creeping on the mirror
through bloodshot eyes
echoes of laughter.

The Lady of Shalot comes
alive on moonlit nights.

The memories haunting again
blank walls waiting to be painted
Plants waiting to be mended
Dishes waiting to be done
Letters waiting to be written

I am not scared to see through me
There's still time

Home is waiting to be found
I am waiting to be myself again
I don't want to become someone else.

The truth though, oh the tender truth,
Would it scare everyone?

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