~ a poem

My own existence confounds me.

The light finds me hidden 
I steer the conversation away 
Mirror only ever captures a silhouette

Not to be looked upon squarely, 
I recede via volitions voided
And incontrovertible

I cannot will myself onto others 
I cannot make anyone care about me 
I do not want to have to

Certainly, I bear no ownership over this gift

My own existence confounds me. 
And I do knot know what to do.

My own existence confounds me, 
And I am awaiting an answer’s arrival, 
Through much weeping and sighing 
Drawing swords to cut through it all 
Summoning violence I can volition

For myself
Onto my shades and phantoms 
Unto my pasts and present

My own existence confounds me.

Where should I begin?