• On a crowded shelf
    Sugar coated dust finds home
    On the slightly bowing wood,
    Somewhere squeezed in-between
    Tradition and New Age
    I was a book
    Packed with many pages.
    Layers and layers from my chapters of ignorance
    Leather bound tightly, its skin tough to tear
    Yet I stripped myself of these layers:
    A calloused mind
    Hardened skull
    Pious chapel
    Right Wing Flyer
    Altered chemicals
    A coercer....
    Until I was left with humble hands
    ...Was what I first started with
    I was free, to start again.
    To pen myself the story I wanted
    Not which was quilled by strange hands
    Some chapters still bleed through,
    An eraser can not remove a dried soaked stain
    But like we learn to hold the pencil gentler,
    And glide lighter over the page
    I have script a new form of me