My fragile flesh now fails me
While my mind remains the same.
A prison of flesh and bones
I’m bound to this body.
An essential part of what I am.
Yet, this tangible stuff,
is not the essential stuff.
That which cannot be seen nor touched
Truly makes me what I am.
Do not judge me
for the tears I cry today
As I grieve the self I once imagined
and now know can never be.
Zebra Pig 