Expect Me to Change

Expect me to change.
Expect me to vacillate.
I’ve had to create a million different versions of myself in order to survive.
I’ll be who I was one minute, another person the next, and then circle back around again to my safety net.
When I breath in, I am one person.
When I exhale, another.
I’m shifting and changing and transfigurating.
I rise up anew one day, only to lay down and decay the other.
I’ve lived a thousand different lives and tried on three hundred different skins.
Only to find the inner child still stays within.
Hold onto hope with each new past that this cast of me will be the last.
I create and I dine on the divine that I see kindling inside.
.But we aren’t home yet. We aren’t out of the woods.
There’s still faces to use and skins to hoist askew.
.All because I will never feel at home with you.
Onward I traipse on into the battle royal.
Recreating myself day after day in search of a skin that feels just right.
So. Don’t be surprised when I show up not right. . I’m changing. I’m vacillating. .The version of me you knew from before has been shed long ago.
Laying somewhere on my bedroom floor.
Wrinkled and worn and too abused to be used.
But that’s who I was and your expectations are on you.
I’m new.
I’ll be new again tomorrow.
I’m sorry you thought that it was my skin you could borrow.
But deep down in my fragmented heart
The divine is sparking. It’s trying to start.
Crack by crack it’s filling in.
Who I was supposed to be…
Who I was meant to be then…
Before I was borrowed, taken and used.
Before I was violated, touched and abused.
She’s there, deep down under in all of her femme.
Starting to burn and remember who she was …
Way back when.

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