Mistaken identities reel me,
They collapse my reason
And shuffle my logic into
Tiny boxes that are overflowing
And upset and forgotten,
Lisping away in the corner
With curse words and condemnations.
I filter my logic on some days,
Letting it roll over me in a
Slow head nod with raspberry pudding.
But in the end of most of these days,
I’m still left reeled: reeling.
Misunderstood and forgotten,
Turned away at the door,
Catching my breath and lying awake
At midnight, mistaken.