I might introduce myself,
If I knew who I was.
Maybe I’m that girl.
The one who sold the world.


I merely seek redemption,
No judgement at all.
As such I take the paintings
And the photos from the walls.
From the rooms and in the halls.
From the blood-free bathroom stalls.


Familiar mirrors to my eyes.
Of my eyes. No reprieve, only reprise.
Maybe I AM that girl
In those pictures that used to be
Hanging here, unseen.