What is really mine

I struggle
to retain originality
swamped by
external influence
and opinions.

Do I exist as a blank page
a script engraved in stone
or find meaning
in my responses
to stimuli?

Does the correlation
build upon my core
or replaces all
that I ever thought
was mine?

Struggling to find my breath
I wonder If I ever knew what’s mine –
oxygen that sustains
blood that circulates
or the force which responds to it all?


Photo Challenge #234


12 thoughts on “What is really mine

  1. I take my hat off to you Reena. Except for limericks and comic doggerel, I’ve never written poetry in my life. Last Saturday I took part in a poetry workshop and, I’m sorry to say, I still feel no nearer to writing a poem.
    Keep up the good work!

    Liked by 1 person

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