My Own

her eyes were incredibly big
mouth labeled as the Sahara dessert
her legs like 400 year old midland trees
while her pours carried hell
Insanity was her sister
and her father lived in jail
but her mother gave her two sides
to show and tell.
as if the stares were voices
a novel would be made from sand
the gates of bread break
and air turns to sound
she simply directs a question to me
but how could such a question
in the breeze.
I've never had doubts before
unless a mirror gazed upon me.
I caressed my fragile hair
while my pours cursed
and parted my dry face
Who am I?
judging a soul
with my same fate.

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