Poems from bekahbooh

  I am not my reflection I am not my reflection I am not my reflection And if I am not how I look to myself, I’m sure as hell not how I...
  i am indoor wandering under a mirrored ceiling in my own head— my thinking sky i am a lead balloon a petrified caterpillar who has not...
  when your own little finger seems more foreign than an entire forest   when you feel as though your eyes will never return to your head...
  she sweeps the floor under her bed cause she doesn't want anyone to think she does anything only halfway and she vacuums the rug but...