How do I see
myself?
Sometimes
I don't, for
I am missing
in-action
at the
edge
of this life unlived
of this story untold
of this destiny unfated
of this truth unveiled
in all its
naked
fury
as I'm so far from freedom
so close to
my own
incarceration
where my heart beats hard against
a ribcage
that won't let
me go
out
into the world where I can see
myself
becoming more me
than is necessary
in
everyday
subsistence.