I am

hanging onto the edge of the gutter by my fingernails.

I dig in with my chin, scraping for leverage

and tearing my face across the rocky gravel.

I am surviving.

 

I am

slipping through the crack of the concrete sidewalk.

As the man-made jungle expands, so do the cracks,

calling together its force to press me, pull me down.

I am powerless.

 

I am

stepped on by a stranger who forgot to notice me.

I fall; though I could have found the strength to hold on,

nobody wanted me to.

I am abandoned.

 

I am

forgotten behind a wall built to hide me.

The wall is plastered with billboards

which magically turn desire to necessity.

I am not for sale.

 

I am your consciousness.

I am your reality.

I am what you cannot face because you are afraid of the mirror.

I am hidden.

I am here.