Traces Of A Stranger Poem by Bianca Free

i was looking for myself in questions i had posed, and in self-replies
i turned the pages of old journals, titled with my name, covered in the ink and lead of my life
and there were the traces of the girl who i sought, but her I found not, but a stranger in the lines
i sat quietly for hours soaking her in, and this I did with tears, for she had no soul and was better off hanging from a pole than traipsing on
if that was me i am glad i resemble her no longer