All I Am Not

I am not a saint
Sage, poet, pagan, hippy bitch
Frolicking through forests
With flowers in my hair
Waiting to ease your pain

Heathen, hipster, flower child-
I walk in storms to wash my sins away,
But the kiss of the raindrops
Makes my shirt stick to my skin
Igniting any onlooking eyes
In such a way,
And of course it’s all my fault-

I was born free without a fuck
To give or two,
So take me with a grain of salt
And a shot of tequila,
If I’m just a little too much for you-
You are not one, but two,
As I lay here forgotten
Six feet under the weeping ash,
Can’t you see?
Man made me this some sort of way-

Suddenly I blink and there are three of you-
One for each dirty part of me-
I’m afraid there will be more to come
So I dare not close my eyes,
But I can’t bear to watch any longer.

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