I am not that thing right now.
The surface is wax.
People don’t see the under belly.
Wax melts; it scrapes away into little flakes.
I am covered in wax.
I want to be, I want to do.
I am not that thing right now.
The surface is paper.
Seeming to be a legal document.
Sign here please.
A small due for a whole life.
Paper rips; it can be shredded away.
I am not that thing right now.
I am a picture.
The captured past.
Faded, stained, and creased.
Worn down; no gloss.
I am that thing right now.
Caught by the shackles of time.
Voice silenced and overwhelmed.
Printed smile, ironed features.
I am a picture.
This picture is me.