Sorry in advance for any formatting errors! I’m having to type this on my phone as I’m traveling.
I am a creator of many worlds,
Is it incumbent upon myself that
I treat them all with love.
They are my scars, whole valleys
Baring the lives of thousands I will
Never fully know.
They are my lashes, my hair,
My nails, things that are apart of me,
Yet I am so quick to lose unknowingly.
Whole worlds die and live on my skin,
Little villages, colonies, nations,
And many more inside of me will thrive.
My fantasies are alive, multiple personalities
Branching off of a single curious whim, acted
Out in walking and sleeping dreams.
Tell me, why I cannot love them? Why should
I not love them? Them in all their horrors
And grace – them existing in me.
It’s magic, it’s witchcraft, its power in basic
Realization that I am more than me,
I am beyond a single being.
If you like my writing please check out my book Moth-Like. It can be bought on Amazon here.