Mascara drips onto the tiles.
Five years spent chasing myself.
Fumbling atop the Ferris wheels
must be how the future feels.
Midnight drives and ocean swims,
that’s where the real me begins.
Hand tight on a fraying rope,
first love hums with a backseat grope.
The light made promises soon revealed,
but reality shifted to be concealed.
Here it was, all I wished;
an effigy to prove that I exist.
Part 2 of a three-part poem inspired by, and slightly paraphrased from, Where is the line? by Makenna Karas. Part 1 is here.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
1994ever 
And too often if the world doesn’t effect us with judgment and perception in a dozen ways, we do it ourselves. In the end – what do we believe of ourselves?
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