I'm Sorry, Nova
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I'm Sorry, Nova
I'm afraid to pick up the guitar on my own
The last one I knew to pick up a guitar and sing their heart out
had it burst up out their throat and strangle them
until all that was left was a shell of themselves
and that shell took what was left of their soul
and dragged it down to hell, leaving their heart behind
I knew their heart, and I glimpsed their soul
but I couldn't see their entire whole
through the gaps in my understanding of myself
And I've never gone down to the slabs to see
For myself what's left, or eulogy
I'm afraid of what I'll find
Or what they'll recognize in me
The pain of the world they left behind a near certainty
And I like the idea of the metaphorical death
an idea of rebirth and change
but I'm truly afraid that should I go there
they'll see in me a mirror to themselves
a future "them" they could have been
and they'll try to finish the job
of annihilating the person they used to be.