I have this sort of personal item.
It’s not hidden, everyone knows
It’s as clear as if it’s plonked on my face
It defines me, gives me a persona
I rely on them like another sense,
A part of one anyway
What those out there don’t know
Is that this item has more power in itself and what it does to me
Without them, I am free
I don’t need to worry about details or specifics
I can put that idea of being totally aware to somebody else
I finally have a believable excuse.
I need them, so the doctor has said and so I know myself
But when I slip them off and flick my hair back
I release her.
The one who can kiss the boy she doesn’t like
And drink the concoction, without seeing the side effects
I’m free to be this form of me
The one that not everyone sees.