I am a soul in a body that should be mine,
But I’m unfamiliar with the control system.
I can walk okay and get out of bed most days,
I can even run and swim and carry things when I need to.
What I cannot do is feel at home,
Or forget that I am just a skeleton hiding in it’s protective shell.
Every blink and twitch and shiver courses through my brain,
And I’m screaming to be set free.
Screaming in a metaphorical sense of course,
Because to scream would be to open my mouth and I haven’t found that button yet.
I slouch until my shoulders hurt and my back is permanently bent,
Until I can hardly breathe as every intake of breath requires a conscious thought.
It’s a pre-programmed mechanism so that I can always hide,
Though I don’t know who exactly I’m trying to hide myself from.
Bodiless eyes are behind every corner and in every crevice,
Patiently waiting for this dysfunctional house to finally crumble.
It holds me up for as long as I can keep my mind quiet,
It does it’s job as well as I could expect it to.
But there are days when I wish I could see with eyes that belong in my own head,
Or feel with hands that no one else is shaking.