Firsts

I imagine the first time I looked
At the world, the trees, the sun
At myself, maybe in a mirror
I imagine the first time I held my own two fingers
And felt the feel of them.
When I interacted with a machine, maybe a TV
Or the first poem I read or created
Maybe in my head
Maybe in a dream.
I think of all the firsts and how half a human could deal with these life changing moments
I saw death at the age of three
I heard the first fight at the age of five
I survived many years of bullying
And maybe, the insecurities of being the youngest child.
At the age of 23, sometimes I feel it is too difficult to lift a finger
Or to circulate a thought
To blink an eye at the meteor that crashes on me
Each day each day from a brighter never dimming universe
Or maybe just machine screens.
My eyes look vacant in a mirror
I curl into myself for something, anything.
My own ten digits leave angry marks on my arms and neck
Red- a reminder I am the only being with blood in me.
I don’t feel a control over myself.
The world has dissolved away and there is no other being.
But the monster of existence, of society that looms over my head.
How much will be too much for this nut on my neck
To crack and never be one again
A whole sun again.
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~insight07
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