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Jan 2013
I am not not selling my soul to the devil tonight,
not for a 10 bob shilling note or a ***** hoody with your deep scent of pain lined within its seams.
I am not selling my nature,
for my nature has roots as big as the old oak tree that grows in the deepest forest and shelters those that seek.
I am not forgetting my place,
it's right here, next to you, by your side;
it's right here, in front of my son, holding his world in my arms, and his love in my heart;
it's right here, projecting from my heart, arms that encompass the world.
I am not drilling for oil,
I seek no riches from ill gotten gain,.
I am not your past journey,
I walked my own road to get here, i laid those bricks down piece by piece.
I am not who is knocking at your door,
for i am not the fear your heart dreads at that sound of that knock.
I am not here for you to sum up,
I am not a number, an equation or problem you have to solve.
I am not my emotions,
as they are an extension of me as my words are my mouth, and my actions from my hands.
I am not a box of wonder,
I am a clearly written masterpiece of wonder and intrigue, and i love the very soul of me.
I am not your head,
my arms lay weary at my side for the troubles you carry within your mind are too heavy for me to hold.
I am not a carnival horse,
that swings around and around, for applause, for the fame and the glory.
I am not a catch,
a fish, a lock to a door, a bubble to burst.
I am not a master, a magician, a hooligan or a carpet burn *****
I am here, open, here, honest, here, just here.
I am not,
I am not,
I am not, you.
Rachael Stainthorpe
Written by
Rachael Stainthorpe  Huddersfield
(Huddersfield)   
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