tittle yourself

I was never born.
I was never delivered.

I was painted on a canvas
stained with all the memories
I will ever make.

I was scribbled on a page
burnt with all the words
I will ever speak.

I was coaxed from the strings
of a violin
out-of-tune from playing my trembling song far too long.

I was sculpted from clay
into this vague human form;
everything that touches me
leaves a mark.

I was never born.
Everything I am has been made