i live a legend a legend of my own making i have breathed putrid air
have looked at a dying moon i am the shapeshifter of my story
i guess you get the idea it's all about me i am my father's daughter
i scream at the top of my lungs no one hears me it is not the end of the world
if the story doesn't come out right it is just a poem the story of my life
January 20, 2015
Note: Elizabeth's words to replace the wordle this week.
“To cope with mystery, we create a story. Having no idea who we are, where we came from, where we're going, or what life means, we adapt by giving names to things and pretending that the names and the stories are real. That's the root of our ignorance.” From “The Fiction of Being” --Mark Matousek