I'll tile myself
a rendition that's nice,
a mosaic of all
that I want from this life.
Laughter will peal
from the walls like old paint,
leaving circles like halo's
to crown me a saint.
Piece upon piece next
to more like the same,
like a text that when looked
at just right spells my name.

So simple,
so clever,
so altogether me.
Amazing that my face fits
right in place with what I see.

An eye to see a world outside
of my catastrophe.
An ear to hear what can't divine
the diferences of we.
Flesh just like a cresh so fresh
that I don't want to leave,
a surface, smooth, that can't
disprove my true divinity.

But horror striking hammer blows,
my body writhes in pain.
my skin begins to crack
with my attackwill I be slain?
this oil slick, this caustic smear,
this marring bitter self made tear.

I'm taken
im shaken
back to place.
I'm so small,
I have no face.