you've tried on dreads, feminism, and barista.
i still don't know how someone who changes their identity
is always the same to me.
you are part of something called truth.
a word i still can't define, sort of like you.
waiting for a four word piece of art
to remain on you always,
you neglect to remember
you remain forever, just by existing to these people.
temporarily stuck in a sleepy town,
with your eyes wide open,
your heart beating fast,
like a bull at the gate, and sadly
we have realized
the world is sometimes a dirty red blanket
you want to take down.
but once you make it through,
this wall of comfortability
and lack of resonance,
you will find miracles.
maybe not now,
or five million words from now,
you might realize that you are of much more importance
than you ever thought you were.
so while you survive off a caffeinated IV,
and enchanting rock and rollers,
i will attempt to mentally record
the life of a legend
who will go to the grave,
denying they were even a legend
at all.