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Selfie


sit amidst the pieces
remnants of a childhood
the room that i was raised in
is giving me chills
nothing left to gather
shamefully returning
life is worth a little
plastic bag of pills

and the filter can't obscure
all the darkness that surrounds us
as the lights are dimming down
we must face the ways we walk on
can you tell me what is real
walking on

stains of clotted liquid
my eyes surrendering
footprints on the carpet
shattered and clawed
and as i look over my shoulder
i think i see god
standing in a stairwell
a condescending nod

but the filter can't obscure
all the darkness that surrounds us
as the lights are dimming down
we must face the ways we walk on
can you tell me what is real
walking on

i love the strike of air
that hits you short before the train
love how it moves my hair
and sets a stillness to my brain
i remember the simple things
remember the laughter
but we keep on tumbling washing out
and the edges grow softer

when no filter can obscure
all the darkness that surrounds us
as the lights are dimming down
we must face the ways we walk on
can you tell me what is real
walking on