Sariel Hana

I have eyes,

They may be caked in glitter & vibrant hues.

I am keen on a little color.

 

I have hair.

Reddish and brittle it may be.

I like it that way.

 

I wear clothes.

Old and contradictory.

I enjoy plaid on plaid and reinventing old denims.

 

 “Look at her, staring off into east Jesus nowhere. Can she even speak?”

“Never said a word to me.”

“I heard her dad killed himself. She lives with her grandma.”

“Does she even have friends?”

“What a creep.”

 

My father is very much breathing.

Insane and a recluse, barely sees the light of day.

I love him unconditionally.

 

I adore my grandmother.

Confused and regretful, benign and endearing.

She is flawless and faultless.

 

I live on Earth, I promise.