Testament

I‘d take a swooping glance at the mirror and wonder how I’ve lived for the better part of my years. To such form, to such mold. I’ve tread the hours and days failing to acknowledge that the defining part of my entity is performed through words. The very words that you take in right now.

I am the words you understand. I am also that that you are aimlessly reciting. Forget about the face for it is only an aesthetic identity, hold the sentences, stanzas and paragraphs dear. When I’m part with the air we breathe, those words that you’ll embrace, is me.

Which four walls can contain me?

Ultimately, I am misunderstood in ways that you will never imagine yourself to comprehend. I am misinterpreted vehemently and fervidly. And I’m stumped on ways to clarify myself. If I can even begin to know the real person who tugs on my strings. I’ll admit it as much as the next person that at most times the tendency to perish may still be too overwhelming.

But why do I still play by their rules then?

I’d take another glance in the mirror and see a mess. A disfigured mess of all sorts, sewn and patched by the attachments that you’ve all bestowed upon my wretched self. When the stitches strain and tear, would it be any wonder if such a mess got on your beautiful shoe?

Sincerely,

Jinn

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