my poem no. 6

Recently I started writing poems again. This one is from about a week ago. Don't ever give up on writing. When nothing it's healing. (And if you have some of yours poems and want somebody to share them with, to have someone else's opinion, don't hesitate and send them to me. I would be honored)

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nothing I have now is my own

the dress is a gift from my ex-boyfriend

the roll-up I just made is my enemy

the time is flying by and I didn’t defeat it, it’s not yet mine time

nothing around me is my own

nothing feels like it belongs to me

and I feel naked and something more – wretchedness, humiliation, superiority?

should I be free and independent?

and suddenly I’m afraid of death

strangely because I always counted on it I always knew how close it is

but that was my body knowing

and my body no longer belongs to me

nothing is my own any more