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Midway

Kaila Pouncy

LimitsHelen HodgettsPainting

I lost myself on a road late and long past dusk, 
I walked to the four way, found the center of the junction, 
Made my stone bed, and crawled under the concrete 
in my dreams, I swam in your eyes, while in reality, 
my balance finds what you are and fails me, but  
proclaims all that I am, still being for you,  
So I sank, submerged in grey stardust and as I rejoice, I REJOICE! 
Strangely nostalgic I become for these at these dreams in which 
I sacrifice my comfort at a stern hand and some bleach but,  
I force my past self to stand up,  
though I cry myself back to sleep and I beg myself to swing back  
while I thank God for my sight 
At five, I flinch as I fall on the ice, catch the returning echo of silence, and my ears grow sensitive to noise and the lack of 
my dolls are getting married, and that’s when I began to fight in my sleep 
The ice melts to slush at fifteen because I am now used to the cold, but still nursing the problem of hypothermia and blue fingers partnered with a recurring question following all my bold transgressions with “why did you do it?”, a side effect of premature independence who criticizes me about eight times daily.  
As for now, I’ll continue bandaging my mind 
And repeat to myself everything is fine, or at least, it will be 
I will be.