if I could administer the anesthesia myself, I’d have already tied it to my vein
if I could un recall the ocean of blue, I’d have already buried the remains
in a theatre that only plays re-runs, an endless time loop punishes my lack of refrain
i've walked the path back step by step to repaint my Mona Lisa, to rid the virtue of bloodstains
when my shores connected to land, I followed the yellow brick road
I never checked my step, never measured the jumps, my pace never slowed
I bore the fabric of stories that only when whispered in the dark of night can they be sewed
with each weighing stitch added, the ends began to unravel and corrode
I ran through gardens and swam through lakes guided by an invisible string
I faced harsh winters, cool autumns, and unbearable heat
but it is the vernal equinox to which I cling
synchronized swims leading me to the lettered path of being
wings carried me to new shores as I begged for my memory
to regain my sense of self, to proclaim I was led accidentally -
no pigeons flew my message, no wands granted me identity
chains between my ankles, a cry to the skies for my serenity
but voices remain hushed, until one small guiding light
who bestowed her wisdom upon me that night
she said if you are not changed then it was a plight
for it always changes you, if it is right
the differences irrevocable, Athena whispered to me
I anchored to her words, letting them drag me back to sea
all the while yearning for that crippling naivety
she dropped me on the rocks, granting me vacancy
as that spring window shutters close -
winter fallen as it snows
cerulean reminders now turned foes
the key bridge most recently tethered now lost in the throes
like a solder home from war, bones weary from expedition
the road less traveled by weathered down to provisions
if your binoculars do not indicate the exact composition
each layer of ice packed on, as you see, the frost thickens