Is this me or was this me?
Is this long ago and far away or is it now?
In this time, past or present, there were moments of pure joy in childhood. But, even then, I held the darkness in my hands.
Can you see a child in pain?
Can you see the stripes she bore at so young an age?
Is that the angel of death behind her gloating, grasping,and sucking life from her?
Or, were they figments of a vivid imagination?
They were real. This is me. Today. Lost in time. Stuck in the muck and mire of time, memories, and pain. This is me.