*artwork- “reflection” by belle yang via themuseum.org
Every time I open my mouth
To let my words out
I witness the strangeness
Staring at me in the eyes of the beholder.
Will I ever be a foreigner to all the languages I’ve learnt to love?
My elusive place in this universe
Is concealed, hiding behind
The (un)dyeing hope to belong.
The walls that I’ve never built,
Neither real nor ones inside
Built themselves anyway and
They separate me from myself
And I can’t reach
The threshold of where I begin
And where the world ends.
The lines I’ve written upon the bitterness of my sixteen years
On the blue wall of my youth
Have they come true?
Two decades after, now
Am I able to distinguish
Between the secondary and the essence?
Am I able?
To take care?
As a fact, as an undisputed given,
Every written mistake
Every word that will ever be left mispronounced?
Everything that I’ve had to forget
And suppress into the deepest
Every hazy image
I will throw it all up onto the surface
And will investigate, thoroughly
Under magnifying glass
That is molten from chunks of my life
Scattered between here and there.