By Allie Marie
Syllables that never learned to shake hands
are sprayed with paint on mirror glass.
I’ve learned to memorize my reflection,
but only dare to know the juxtaposition.
Lucky us. Lucky you. Lucky me.
The rebellion. The fresh skin. The young. The free.
We’re a preditor named change and preyed to stay the same,
so we become eachother’s best friends and enemies.
This will shape who I will be,
but I’m not sure which part is me.