I am...

I'm the scent left on a pillow, the fear in the heart of another person. I'm the worry biting at my stomach, the undertaken road and even more the forsaken. I'm smoke and colours, anger and misery, the sown sorrow and the stolen bliss. I'm a harvest lost even before seeding, the fruit of a labour not done. I'm a rocky ground, a source of bitter water, slime on the bottom of the soul, poison and blood and foolishness. I'm that part carved by the blade, a lost gamble, a forgotten dream, a re-surfaced memory.

I am what I am: a kiss at the corner of a smile, the glare blinding the eye, the shadow bemusing the mind. I am what I am: something wrong, something lost.