Identity Crisis Poem by Jenn Kovel

There comes a certain point
When everything
I've held in high regard-
From necessity or
Comforting presence- has gone.

I never saw it coming.

Everyone or thing I have
Thoroughly planted,
Based myself in and on,
Wildly escapes my slippery grasp.
Gone to the known-
Wisely so

Where and what I want to be
And who we call myself,
You are somewhere and someone,
Going someplace
Rings, rings in my
Rings in my ears.

In ten years I will be
a, b, c
And above all,
Enjoying life
At the end of
'The Plan, '
Scheduled according to
The exactness of my
Dear loves-
Logic, reason.
Dare they hide their
Rational hand in
My affairs?

Oh, secret means, you have
Destined to fail me.

There is no plan
Omega. And
'Future' is now the word
For something which
I cannot know

Is it, then, destiny? And
Shall I function in this
Wretched show of
Indecision, unknown,
And God forbid, alone?

I'll scream to
The sky until my lungs cough blood
In protest, and
Tears freeze crystal clear
On my eyelashes

Snowflakes in
My hair are leeching
The every away rational thought
Single

If there's no hope in
The stars that touch
Heaven, then what,
Really, is there for me