Reinvention

I loved her to the point of invention

Ignored her barbed tongue and condescension

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I gladly tore down the self I had made

Breaking piece by piece with hammer and blade

From the wreckage she chose a few fragments

Soldered them with narcissistic pretense

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What of the insides, the brain or the heart?

Proper devotees don’t need to be smart

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No need for a beat, internal rhythm

Only a recursive algorithm

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She ordered me buffed, shined to perfection

My only light came from her reflection

After a while, playthings are outgrown

Tossed under beds, nothing but rag and bone

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In the shadows, her creation crumbled

In refuse, a spark remained, humbled

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Using pain and hope as equal parts fuel

Sparks become fires, forging new tools

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Drawing blueprints for the me I would build

Placing my heart in the space she once filled

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Plenty of windows, doors in my design

For fresh air and kindness, old friends of mine

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Embracing new dreams, my imperfections

I loved myself to the point of invention

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