I Am: Conscious

My actions have no enthusiasm behind them, an even worse, my words have no power to bind them. They’re void of meaning but fiercely vulnerable to influence, of, those who I deem wiser, more mature, more go-getting of life while I, on the other hand, run and trip over my feet, I can’t tell my left from my right or what’s suited to me. So toothless, unarticulate, clueless, meaningless, thoughtless, lifeless – where’s the mighty roar? Let me become a vulturous creature and soar to where they say my head is at up there in the clouds. In my own world, a dream world, called ‘Vicky’s world’ where everything is how it should be, metaphorically, but never literally or physically. Who am I fooling? To who do I perform my acapella? Soliloquay. No one, just me. An audience with you, me and Irene. The irony. 

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