When I get tired of face.

Once my strength has given way to place.

Where will I fall and may I rise?

This questioned by a muscle bound slayer

“May I be a perpetrator?”

whose faint heart weakened by fate.

Silently held in wait-

Patience crushing under whirlwind thinking.

If she model stereo type-

maybe he’ll see apart of himself in her.

Next to me,

next to me lay the sleepy mist they call faith.

She hasn’t disappeared yet.

I have not been vanquished

but, have thought of my own demise many a time.

These blue pools of gracious certainty

or copper-red sadness have pierced my mind every time.

These mood swings do not serve my being,

Rather, they deconstruct all I have put to place in this beautiful skull.

Depression is hinderance to contentment of all that was built

From toddler to pubescent.

If I be Atlas, he be Hermes;

giving me notice that my traitor be only myself

But, flies too quick away to give me the dagger to murder treacherous beast that lie in shadow.

Shadow of mind, won’t you shine light and let me kill your cancer?

Cowardess, won’t you clean up this mess…

I am the Phoenix that bested many fire.

Above your head my banner hang on wire.

I do not wine, I do not grovel, all I ask is have love for whom does follow.

I do not see myself the way you envision me,

but I see you as you are meant to be.

So let us carry each other and be the other’s reflection,

For perfection is better in the opposite direction of the mirrors image.

Better in focus in a fellow traveler’s smile.

And I will be here to back you all the while.

Alexandra Doe