Eleanor Choe

The weight lies in the mind Not the body Like a gray storm thundering across Disrupting everything in its path The storm inside The brain thinks the body imperfect But it cruelly plays tricks on itself A magician It imagines a pretend reality As the eyes scour for these make-believe imperfections As if finding treasure on the island But the X is an illusion A trap It makes comparison to others Wishing it were others Trying to appear like others Still At what price must the brain suffer Must...