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Who Am I To You?

Inspired by "I Am The Antichrist To You" by Kishi Bashi

The song that's playing

casts a brutal light

on all my ungotten wanting.

All the pain I've pushed down

and ignored

numbed out

with drink or smoke,

ingested and exhaled,

vaccinated my broken heart.

Lied--said it wasn't there,

said it left, and that it's now resolved,

laughed at

and shrugged off,

explained away is if it's understood.

But my pain is like a little-me,

A guy who doesn't want to admit he's hurt,

who will not ask for help--

a living soldier amongst the dead,

on the battlefield,

pretending he is one of them,

so he won't have to put a hand up,

and admit defeat, give in to the loss.

I'm scared to look in the mirror

because I'm not the person

I thought I would become--

and there are mirrors everywhere.

I've come so far

but there's still so far to go,

ages more, after my ashes blow away

like sawdust by a fan.

The forms I once held

crumble and dissolve, loose onto the air,

Empires will rise and fall

as I shift into different lives

and I'll finally become the shovel

that buries the dirt over who I once was.

I stretch out in this field

showing all wounds,

Ones perceived, and ones incurred

ones unfairly wrought

and ones deserved.

And when all's said, done, you're taught--

that some things that glitter

really are gold,

but the best things in life

Can't be bought.

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1 Comment

Michael, this poem is very powerful and very moving. E. Domotor

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