survival mode: a poem

23.08.21

i don’t remember chunks of my existence almost just like i was born yesterday and handed a memory disk belonging to a stranger, my body doesn't feel like my own and foreign too, my mind, i didn’t live my life but almost willed it alive. you should know that this uterus wasn’t meant to harbour the impatience of an ever-cocooned little sprout, and these lungs weren’t meant to pump gasoline into my blood in the name of another breath, i don’t remember pain but i am all it remembers- survival mode is a bitch.