Its deep within her stomach
That feeling of unease—slowly unraveling.
She stands in the mirror and the imposter stares back at her.
Dirt begins to seep through her pores as the glass sinks into veins.
She can’t quite be herself while someone else is in the driver’s seat.
Looking in on a life of autopilots as they try to survive.
Her happiness hangs on for dear life.
Plexiglass walls surrounding the hearts of everyone scorned.
She can’t find the key.
The shields to the fortress move quickly as they gaze in awe.
One wrong step would be the end of us all.
She was showered with adoration as her body tenses.
What does it all mean?
What lies beneath?
Do we even exist?
Nicole Johnson 
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