I out lived
every version of me
that mistook survival
for a soul.
The woman the world applauded
was only my echo. Beneath her,
another woman
kept sharpening silence
until it learned to cut.
Every fear
called it self a prison.
She called it
a cocoon.
Every ending
called it self
a grave.
She taught the coffin
how to hatch.
I did not lose myself.I buried
my counterfeit.
The self they still recognize is only the shadow
of the woman who finally recognized herself.
Slam Poetry by Lucyalia are copyrighted.
Any use of my poem must be accompanied by my name