To Be
Continued
Have I
crossed a line that is a sign?
More art
is on the way into my skin
I hear
nothing but criticizing
It’s
funny to me to hear chastising
Too many
already or an addiction penny
Failure
to realize it’s my story and identity
Words I
write reveal
Pictures
inked illustrate my ideal
Nothing
more permanent than the written and drawn
It makes
dictators frightened and forlorn
Shows my
surety and security
Places me
in a definite category
Happy is
this want for it’s my armor too
Keeps
away those who I wouldn’t want anyhow
What
would mater say?
She’d
laugh and say I’m crazy, in her accepting loving way
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