Villain in white Slave to ideals Conscience of jagged edges Cacophony of whispers Cut the moral high ground down to size, This is who I am. Canon of a dead religion Color in search of canvas Shadow of a lover who turned his back Prodigy of a friend who offered his hand Mourn a hero never born, This is who I am. Whole truth, broken child Cynic who believes in buttercups Rhyme without reason Reason without faith Answer a question with a question, This is who I am. Whitewashed layers to claim a painless blue Curious compound of brick and glass Deep lungs and brittle bones Nomad of the ages in adagio Trade a blank page for a big word, This is who I am. Fortress of doors Familiar song in a foreign tongue Pauper who would thieve an embrace before either bread or bible Dullard who would linger in goodbye but for the sight of a corpse Admit to everything, I am this: This name, this contradiction, This open wound, I am.
This article was provided by Body Positive. It is a part of the publication Body Positive.