Is this me?
My identity?
My I D E N T I T then Y do I feel so lost?
Should I traverse the wilderness?
Find myself in the ruins of the past?
Escape to the edges of the earth?
Will that help me find myself?
Or something else?
Is this me?
Should I be happy?
H A P P Y should I strive to find the perfect 9 til 5?
To have the perfect family? 1 husband, 2 children, 1 dog.
1 picket fence, encasing me in.
2 sets of neighbours to borrow sugar from.
1 apron to tie around my waist,
1 noose to tie around my neck.
Is this me?
I ask as I look in the mirror and question;
Why am I not content with these shackles around my wrists?
Imprisoning me into a society
Where I shall work until I die.
Work until I die.
Work until I
D I even if I do not want to
I will join the faceless commuters,
Consumed by computers,
Facing corporate executors,
For my children’s, children’s futures.
Happy.
H A P P Y do we put ourselves in a box
Which we think we can change,
Changing cardboard to paper.
Our dreams fade like vaper,
As we plaster smiles on our faces,
To dispel any traces
That we are anything but
H
A
P
P
Why?
– Jennifer Pickering
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Jennifer Pickering 