A Pain With No Name

 Flipping through pages of
not-so-old photo albums
like driving down dark highways
vaguely remembered through child’s eyes.
The face reflected in the mirror,
it’s mine–I recognize it,
but only from the albums.

I’m not who we think I am.

When does one become what,
live the life, he’s always wanted?
Barb-wire lining these four walls
I’ve only ever called home bats sunlight
into my eyes–funny I’ve never
caught this glare before.
I’ve become a stranger in my own life.
This hollow in my chest feels like cancer
and I wonder if there’s chemo
for a pain with no name as I linger…

 too weak to live,
too strong to die.