For poetry class we have to keep an image journal. We jot things out, not in poem form, but ideas, images…etc. This week, I did one on self. I think my mood is apparent in what I wrote:

I am the wrong thing you did because it was right.

An undying martyr, ashen in the last pew.

I’m the letdown of your lost balloon.

I’m the pothole road that destroys your goodyear.

I’m the light that went out when the last match was struck.

I’m the soft lamb’s coat lost of its innocence.

[Aisha Nicole Drake]