There is always at least two of me at home. At least two.

The one with eager, minty feet
wonderfully bright
a fiery ball of “high fives”
flinging through doors
laughing aloud with mighty souls in chill mode
lost in own my depths of sweetness
I become the song.
Then there is the other. Me.
Who sits and stares at the twisted roots
who mutters and moans in doubtful tones
carried away by the whispers of doubts
and stirring of fears from hidden paths.

Just remember
the next time you wonder if I am ever home alone?
I`m always home but never alone
I live with my siamese soul.

Osupa 2015