I have been losing this year.
I've lost my sense of self,
I've lost love, time.
My identity stolen,
appropriated by thieves.
My freedom restrained by responsibility,
I've fought for my lover and my friends,
Only my faith and conscience intact.
I close my eyes to wish for silence,
opening my heart to no avail.
I am a shadow,
under a canopy of leaves and dust.
I am secret,
a dream realised too soon.
I am not who I am,
I am who they want me to be:
a future, a rectification of their mistakes,
an immortal to their imminent death.
I am not a daughter or a friend,
I am a fallback,
a bravery for their fears,
a conduit for blame of their shortcomings.
I am not a person,
I am a doll,
beautiful and malleable.
Why am I still here?