Let the winds blow and scatter these fallen leaves.

I couldn't rake these pieces of my life into a comfortable heap,

That would fit into the fireplace and burn away a scorching memory.

Scarred for life, my experience was my only beacon in the darkness that surrounded me.

Some years later I was reminded, my experience is a falsehood.

A pitiful reflection off cracked mirrors that distort reality.

Whose reality should I fall back on?

Mine or yours?

I am still walking on the painful shards of a dream

That shattered yesterday and flung pieces in the paths I tread on gently today.

Hold my hand gentle soul...prove me wrong. Prove that experiences

Can be an aberration to the normal.

WHOSE EXPERIENCES ARE NORMAL?

Mine or yours?