Tying my hair up high

& swearing to the gods

Are things that I picked up 

From my number one

Tying my shoes with a double knot

& my ability to smirk

Are things that I adopted from people

That no longer give a fuck

Eyeliner inspired by a woman at a bus stop

Finding bluebells more calming than purple lilacs

Beautiful whispers weaving a bittersweet tapestry

Raising my eyebrow in waiting

Raising my fist in fury

My sweet tooth & my empathy

Not being a person made for mornings & my contrary

I am a ghost made

Built up by quirks

Brought up by traits

Belonging to other phantoms

None of it can be called original because all I ever do; all

I’ve ever done is

Imitate