We are next

I used to spin golden thread

thin and pure as warm sunlight

lighter than feathers

worth more than gold

Now it's murky and brown

chunky and stringy as grassy mud

heavier than sorrow

Who are you, you ask? Why, that's an incredibly good question. I don't know. I ask myself that every day, and I still don't know who I am. I don't know who I want to be, or what I want to do when I grow up.

I'm surrounded by sharks

yet I'm on land

I'm chased by mammoths

yet they're extinct

I'm falling through the air

yet my feet are on the floor

I'm choking on the ocean