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I Am

November 1998

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.

Back to the November 1998 Issue of Body Positive Magazine.

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This article was provided by Body Positive. It is a part of the publication Body Positive.
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