I sit here, on the cold steps of my front porch, once again banished from inside, and I wonder if you know who I am, why I am, what I am? So easily you send me away.
I wonder if you know how close you’ve come to losing me, and then I wonder if you care. I wonder if you know how much I hurt, deep inside where no one can see and no one cares to look, locked away, hidden. Forever. I wonder if you know how much your words hurt, how deep they cut. I wonder, if it were possible, if you could see the scars- the tiny scars of words said long ago and long forgotten, but never quite forgiven. I wonder if you would care to look. And if you looked if you would truly see. It is possible to look without seeing, just as it is possible to see without looking. I wonder if you know this. I wonder if the scars can ever heal, I wonder if I want them to. I wonder if you can see the damage. I wonder if you care enough to look. I wonder where these thoughts come from, these thoughts deep inside my mind, uncalled for, unbidden and unwanted. Ripping through my head. Searing through my brain. Such a shame, that I don’t know who I am. I wonder if you know? If you know who I am? Then I think again and know that you can’t possibly. No one knows who I am. I wonder why you’re here, why I’m here. I wonder who you are to me. Who I am to you. Are we just the tormented and the tormentor, forever locked in a cycle, or is there a higher purpose, some holy reason for this unholy hell. I wonder if I speak truth or if truth evades me. I wonder how you see me, do you see the illusion or can you see through my mask as no one else can- the mask of a fool, a joker who laughs at life but never lives it. I wonder what will happen, if the illusion ever breaks, will you still see me, or will it be like a puzzle that you will struggle to put back together, unable to look upon who I am, what I am. I wonder if you like me, who I truly am, and then I wonder why I care. I wonder what the future will bring, what it holds and what part I will play in it. I wonder what the past hides. I wonder what secrets are hidden there- waiting to be found. I wonder if I might find out some of those secrets, and thin I wonder why I want to. The past is afterall dead. I wonder why no one remembers the one who finishes last, only the one who finishes first. I wonder if I am destined to fish last, and have my life fade into nothingness- unthought of, unremembered, unknown. And then I wonder if I wouldn’t prefer that. I sit here and I wonder if I’ll live, I wonder if I’ll survive the trials of life. And if I don’t- I wonder if you’ll care. If anyone will care, I don’t see why they would- afterall, no one knows who I am.