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Nov 2013 · 2.2k
Changeling
Kevin T Norman Nov 2013
I love too much, but not too often.
My heart gets broken, but I keep going.

I am transparent, iridescent like glass,
So when you strike with the force of a hammer you leave more than a crack.

My heart is fragile, a bird with a broken wing.
I thought you would fix it and make it continue to sing.

I stand tall and confident in all my feelings,
Something that’s scary to you who is not used to these dealings.

I feel shame for the way I am.
Feeling love and passion for you that I wish I could bury in the sand.

A treasure left for you to uncover,
Not something I should have exposed to you undiscovered.

I tend to frighten away the one my heart wants to hold,
Do you see me as crazy, uncontrolled, too bold?

I often take broken loves words and wear them as scars.
Reminders of lessons unlearned and love unforetold by the stars.

I try their words on as an outfit of choice.
If I can change who I am, maybe for once someone will appreciate my voice.

But often times it’s too late.'
My true self exposed in revelations of hate.

No matter how hard I try to mold and bend,
I can’t change who I am, I can’t please every man.

But for some reason I never stop trying.
I can never give up my mind and hearts constant fighting.

I literally drive myself insane for a chance at true love.
I let my mind run wild for an ecstasy that will never come.

Because if I am changing who I am to achieve what I was fooled to see as true,
I’m mistreating myself and I assault my love leaving it ****** and bruised.

It’s funny how the world can constantly build me high,
But it only took you to send me crashing through the sky.

And when I fell and hit the ground,
The armor I built was shattered around.

Underneath it all I could finally see,
The only thing that remained intact was the original me.

I, myself, am my greatest force of nature.
And when I try to change who I am I’m in immediate danger.

The second I wear a mask to fool someone I love,
Is the second that my love is broken, recanted, torn up.
It’s not love if I’m not myself.
It’s not true if I pretend to be someone else.

I’m done being a victim in your insecure schemes,
But I’m also done pretending I walked away perfectly clean.

Yes I am hurt, and yes I wanted our love to be,
But I won’t sacrifice myself for you I’d rather let you go free,
Because somewhere, out there, there’s someone who wants me.

All my imperfections and everything you made me see as faults,
I consider beautiful, rare, a gift to make someone’s world halt.

I’m not sorry for the way I express myself.
I’m just sorry it has to be for someone else.

I love too much, but not too often.
My heart gets broken, but I, I keep going.

— The End —