Bricks and Pieces

Fractions, bits and pieces of myself
Of the brick wall I call me.
Suddenly instead of being the wall
I'm this huge wrecking ball.
My worst critic.
Ready to tear myself apart
Limb from limb.
First the legs.
The base of being me
The cynicism I carry with me
Which I thought to be an essential part of me
I let go of it. At least most of it.
Then the arms.
The tools of self-expression.
The right arm, the visual art.
The left arm, the music.
Cut the crap, focus on the real things.
Which of this really belongs to me?
Which is really me.
I am not that warm and kind person
I'd like to be.
Just the other day I heard I scared a guy
Who just said hi to my girlfriend.
I don't even recognize it,
So if my eyes could give you a cancer
That would have not been even of a lethal kind
I can do that too. I can make you fear me.
In a split of a second I can go all flames and teeth and nails.
I got it from my grandma. She is just something extraordinary.
She asks how you're doing.
Answer something close to "I dunno", and she'll explode on you.
She is this massive amount of nuclear energy
Concealed behind a pair of green eyes.
I love her for that.
I love the world too much to let it slip from me.
Always have. Always will.