Behind Our Eyes

In the very core, at the root
Where no eye ever sees
I know what I am.
I am she.

Yet in each mote of my flesh
Another truth is writ
He is printed over me.
Like tangled string.

A hard road I walk
Where all attend him,
I look out and know
He has stolen my journey.

I take scissors to the string
Unravel him
And still they attend him.
Succour the dying, killing me.

So I yield; relax; curl up
Behind our eyes.
His journey now.
I am so tired,

I Just need to sleep