I don't like my name. It's not me. I'ts not who resides within me. And for that matter, all that IS matter is sort just a facetious dream. You see, I have a mind. A mind I adore, because within it is all I call me. And fuck if I care if you approve of my mind, because it belongs deeply and only to me. So I'll write a new name, I make a new me, I cut my being from the clay. And in this sweet mind, I'll look out with two eyes, and make the world do what I say. Silly thing is, I'm not made of stone, and I want the world to have peace. This land and it's love should be held aloft as the greatest thought we could dream. So come hold my hand, and I'll tell you a name. A name that really means me, and in soft subtle moments, I can tell you the truth and that truth can be objectively Honest.
YOU ARE READING
Floating
PoetryI've collected a lot of works I have made for me and thrown them into a mess of empathic poetry I have done for others.
