i'm not myself
i'm somebody else
trapped
or living out a life that isn't or wasn't mine
i don't know

i readily take on forms
and my lips frame words
that are not my shape or thoughts

i'm a product of environment
of culture, of class
i'm chameleonic

don't judge me
i am you

automobile assault again
by
churchlot crasher.
departed, damage done
even
forgoing forgiveness.
grumbling gomez glowers,
haranguing
impossible immunity.
jeez! just...****!
klutzy
lot leaver!
mangled mobility machine
needs
overnight observation.
poignant payment, pending
quixotic
recompensing ravager.
supposing satisfactory salvage.
truck
under
vehicular
warranty.

girl in the bathroom paints on her face
covering the spots on her skin
hoping to be like the others
cover it for the mornings
but reminded by the night time
knowingly she changes her looks
unknowingly she changes herself
shimmering colors reflect the lights
perfectly pinched pink cheeks
but her mascara-full lashes smear
and the wings of her eyeliner droop
she knows she'll never be like them
how could she love herself
when everything she sees in the mirror
are the things she hates most
cries as she stares at her reflection
she'll never be like the other girls
with genuine beauty and poise
but the other girls aren't authentic
they paint on their faces
to hide the real girl underneath

I wish I could decipher you
insufficient explanation construed
words may fail and logic falter,
the account I'd never alter

a beautiful culmination
purposed, intricate summation
as poetic as a psalter,
the account I'd never alter

transcendent, pleasant mystery
exquisite, written history
content, soaring past the vaulter
the account I'd never alter

I wish I could decipher you
the account I'd never alter

Uncovered hist'ry
Knives, loathing, misfortune's sting
All scars tell stories

throat punch want
hallway haunt
sternum crush
swirly flush
bigot smack
sneak attack
grapple hold
ankle rolled
****** nose
shredded clothes
bruised and worn
ego torn

love withheld...
screws up the poem of your life

Some boy wrote a note to my daughter:
"Your voice, a thing divine."
He quoth the bard of yesteryear
Love shared, by design

"Dad! My ovaries just exploded!"
What every father wants to hear
Well done, young lad. Well said
Love spoken, crushes fear

My care for her, unmatched
No mimic is available
So, I will speak with words attached
To love that is invisible