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Feb 2017
i have
no interest
in choreographing
my words for you

accept them
for their crudeness
as i hold-up
a mirror to myself
and give visage
to my vulnerability
and ego
at once

i have
no playbook
of shotguns or draws
to piecemeal myself
into your heart
or quarterback sneaks
to call when it's over
and i decide
that it isn't

i have
no artifice.

i don't
play games.

i am
the coldness
of the world
wrapping-up to you
for the morsel
of goodwill and warmth
that exists
in itself.

i won't
pretend
that i'm better
and that scares
you away.

i am
not a hypocrite
i don't
cry foul
when i am trampled
by others'
pursuit of happiness.

i hold
this mirror
to myself
to grow.

i think
i will grow alone
as this vine
self-producing
the herbicide of art
and climbing
to the top
of the aristocracy.

it's there
the weeds grow
downside-up
and into the minds
of the people
who do not
accept me.
stylesclash
Written by
stylesclash  28/M/USA
(28/M/USA)   
121
   Azaria
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