Uproot

Are we always who we are?

I feel my heart pumping someone else's blood.

These are not my hands covering my face.

I let my eyes unfocus, I don't need to see this.

I am not the one standing here frozen.

Shouts echo through a blizzard, I am forced to look.

How could anyone do that?

Slowly fire and ice radiate from within me.

I meet myself where I am not,

I focus, I see the thing I am not, I feel.

These are my hands, this is my blood.

Author's Note

I'm wondering what you picture, if anything, while reading this.

Reviews

[joshua deathdealer]

This is very powerful and defiantly stands out. Nice work.