On Theory

I live my life in theory
In what-ifs, but-ifs, thens
Insert myself into stories
Experienced by my friends
What would it be
To be there
What would I say and do
How would I there be treated
If all saw me as I do
I conjure place and setting
With rare context of what is true
And imagine that I’m there living
In the midst of all ado
Instead of being trapped here
Inside this prison shell
That puts a false face on this lonely
That makes normal feel like hell.

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Oh -ME- oh -i-

This is the story of an -i-,
lonely as lonely can be,
for daily she found herself adrift
amidst only islands of -WE-.
Try as she might to come ashore
nought worked – no effort nor plea,
for the -WE-‘s did not know what to do with an -i-
(in the past they had all just been -ME-‘s.)
“An -i-? You’re a freak.
There’s no island for you,
this isn’t the refuge you seek.
Now begone on your driftwood, on on far away,
you’ve already had more than a peek.
Your form is all wrong
though you might mean the same,
but an -i- is not quite a -ME-;
flip -ME- upside down it’s -WE- you will see,
but an -i-? What could there possibly be?
An -i- upside down is but -!-
– an exclamation of anxiety –
you’re connected not even to yourself
yet you wish to become a -WE-?”
So the -i- sailed away, and still sails today,
under a sky devoid completely of stars,
sans celestial guidance to orient herself,
and with hope grown evermore sparse.
Her voyage unknown to maritime charts,
no map nor compass in hand;
treading deep waters with a sorrowful heart,
still searching for somewhere to land.