My arm lays on sheets of paper filled with broken ideas

It's patched with yellow and pink

like a worn down doll that's been "fixed" one too many times

I look at the blue veins that run up my arms

like tree branches

stretching from their heart.

I bleed ink and taste graphite on my lips

I am made up of patches of thread being unraveled to create new ideas

my eyes shimmer like starts that little kids make ungranted wishes upon

I am made up of hidden stories that slip into the cracks of an old sidewalk

my legacy is the life growing from those fallen stories