Introspection

I suppose this is my life.

People told me so, but

I don’t remember initiating it.

I did, though, receive it,

Like it was a gift.

But I did not prescribe my own limitations.

I can’t fly, for instance.

I can’t place myself in any setting

Where vertigo might set in — like

Standing on the edge of Kerry’s cliffs

Where I am so very small.

I don’t feel like it’s my life at all.

I have so very little control.

The world is not mine.

It may be my life.

But I don’t think so.