Sometimes I turn myself from flesh to fiction,
becoming a character seen (in my head)
from a story’s point of view, by an omniscient
writer—from outside me, where I picture
I and me as she and her instead.
Mostly, living inside my own first-person
mind is the perspective I prefer;
it’s hard enough to make my biased version
true to the protagonist, and—worse—
I might not find enough to like in her.
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