Autobiopsy

Named after the moon, ever changing

Layered like an onion, which I hate

Afraid of the freest and most beautiful live things to fly the Earth

Walking metamorphosis, I am, yet there’s no relief

Breaking out of my mind would be suicidal

The paths I walk through my brain keep it in place

Caressing every brick and bush and windowpane –

It’s in the contrasts that you can see my face

Now where to steer the ship now? Captain and crew want to know

I put my toes in the water to confirm it’s too cold

Metaphorically speaking, it’s better to dive in

I’ve heard it’s the bottom of the sea that guards all gold.