Sunday, 29 January 2017


On this iceberg, I am born
On this iceberg, I watch them
They are there, in the distance
On the shore
In pairs
In groups
In families
They share my skin
My face
My blood and bones
But they do not share this iceberg

I watch them
Share warmth
Share joy
Share their souls and their homes
I watch them learn
From each other
So I learn too

I learn to speak like them
Smile like them
Act like them
With no teacher
No parent
No partner
On my iceberg

I watch them
Rip their hearts out
In exchange
Like gifts with bloody bows
So I learn too
I learn
To rip my heart out
But there are things that cannot be learned

On my iceberg
I have ripped out my heart
But nobody is willing to have
The heart
Of a child
That lives on an iceberg

They watch me too
They yell at me
That I speak like them
But not quite
That I walk like them
But not quite
That I am like them
But not quite

They watch me
And they say that I do not shiver
From the cold
But I do shiver
And tremble
And rage
From the frustration
Of my iceberg

So here I sit
On my iceberg
And I watch
I copy
I mimic
I fake

For I am a charlatan
Born with an iceberg
Wearing their skin
Their expressions are my mask
Their actions are my act

So here I sit
On my iceberg
And I watch them
Tether their hearts
With strings made of passion and despair
And I gaze at my own string
Slack and untethered

And I shiver
Not from the solace
Of the cold
But from the solitude
Of my iceberg

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