I, Me, Myself

When she spread her arms to receive the world,

Her disjointed shoulders severed the balance.

Her symmetry bellowed into a gullible vacuum of reception.

She looked into the sky, and she did not feel alone,

But she did not feel safe either.

She clasped her hands to trap her strength, and the regularity

Of her figure fused unto her entwined fingers.

Her symmetry carved the sky into mirrored images.

She looked into the sky, and she felt alone,

But she knew she was the God of the only being that mattered.