Will love every bit of myself
Do not care if they think it’s childish
I think it’s childish
I reject myself
I love myself
I heal myself
I am every bit perfect(ly imperfect)
Fuck the clichés and brackets
A flower grows in my heart
It never leaves, it only dies, dries, crumbles,
and falls away

from my heart

The most savage
white man
bangs his drum
finding slivers of truth in the
raining fog
of his own delusions

He wears the mask of conformity
thinking all along
it was anarchy

and finally ponders
taking it off

while staring at his
hands, his own poetry

some self-made poverty

dangerous

dirty

A rain falls
gently

A flower blossoms in his heart
It never leaves, it only dies, dries, crumbles,
and falls away

from his heart

which remains
pure, never-defiled…

perfect

.

.

.

Image: by Claudia Tremblay

***
Edit 12:02: reverted three words. Poem now shows as originally written on 2021-02-15.