Will I ever be enough?

Will I ever be enough, anymore I question.

Will the skies cry how the doves stride, will a dove knock on my window and hold me right putting a broken image into a masterpiece?

Oh dear, am I even enough to be a human that lives and breathes? Is there a way for my eyes to change, for my body to not feel out of place?

Will everyone eventually get tired of taking a bite out or two of me? Will they bore trying to put the pieces together?

The mask falls constantly, like a bird in a tangle falling from the trees, my wings burdened by rocks my time up my breath tight as I brace for the impact.

But is that enough? That the world has given me. That the minds the screens have told me?

I will never fully know.

-clown 4/30/26