By: Katie M. Moss
18 February 2011
It's what I feel as the static of the day crashes around my brain.
Around my hands the aura is deep red. Survival-oriented,
With a dirty brown overlay: the color of my Insecurity.
The season is changing again,
But my fears never do.
They shadow me- seek me out.
They know where I live, sleep, love.
I will never reach my ideal self.
I will strain, and strain, and strain for perfection.
I stand on my parched, cracked feet,
Balancing my weight on my two largest toes.
Tomorrow I receive the news,
My life in another's hands.
My heart as designed by others does not complete my soul.