i forged this
identity through
tear soaked
pillowcases and
blood stained
mattresses,
through
days when god
never showed
herself.
i found myself
in places where
love and heartbreak
walk hand in hand.

this one face
is all
i have.

it is inadequate
to you.

you and your
many faces, all
so polished, all
so believeable.

you line them up
on your dresser
at night, beside
meaningless
objects that
bring you
comfort.

you think i am
the weak one.

you accepted
whatever identity
was handed to you.

you are forceless-
a marionette doll,
they will all
pull the strings
and watch you
dance.

you are
lifeless.

you
laid down
and you
died.