Me

I am quite the ordinary person. Ordinary being, by definition, nothing spectacular. I am, as one would say, unremarkable.

I am a shadow with no gender and no form. I am a voice that makes no sound.

I am vertigo.

I am a stone that bleeds when cut, a priceless gem of useless dust.

I am Mother Teresa's gnarled fingers.

I am the Pope's abandoned robes.

I am the raging half-life of a teenage girl.

I am the smothering pillow in a would-be widow's hands.

I am, by virtue of my skin,

glass

made from the wind.

I am an iced ivory face

in an Iron Maiden's embrace.

I am a ghost that knew no life.

I am life that knows no ghost.

I am a mirror at my best,

and a reflection at my worst.