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Paper Mache (poem)

I can’t be what you want me to be!
I’m not the image you see in the mirror
Nor your reflection in the river
I can’t speak with your voice
Nor think with your mind
I have my own, they sound like me, it sounds like mine.

I will not be a paper mache
For your to color and design
A Freddie for you to be comfortable with
One that’s hollowed out inside

My own thoughts make ME lonely!
So when I speak them you’re getting second-hand smoke
I’ve already filtered out the bad things and took them into me
That these aftershocks are a joke

I can’t taste with your lips the things you’ve lived through
Those flavors don’t belong to me
But I’ve swallowed my fair share of life
As I suffer from sclerosis of the soul

My thoughts aren’t formed any cheaper than yours
This cloth is made from my own hide
And water is just as wet for me
And time ticks away for me

I can’t be what you want me to be
I can’t
I won’t

I will not

But because of that, I’ll still be lonely.

I will not be a puppet that sits upon your knee
With strings that raise my awareness up higher

but not high enough to leave your shallow depths of awareness
For all the world to see

I’ll be here tomorrow, as I was yesterday,
Just a person in his own corner
Flesh and bone and naked and lovely
And not your paper mache
I am not your paper mache

I will not be your whore

this shit costs more than you can afford

my dignity is priceless, my truth expensive

I won’t put my hands in the air for you

I will not be your mask of superficiality
your excuse for a dirty mind
I will not be your paper mache
your caricature of justification and the latest transgressor

in your world of fake news.

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