Tribulation is born

from identities torn

from directions sworn

never taken or worn.

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For what I do I own

my words do not show,

where my heart below,

set unto what grows.

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Conflicted yes true.

What I am for you.

All I’ve been through,

judge me please do.

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Because words confuse,

what’s true and the news;

let’s do what friends do,

let us laugh at the dew.

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That collects on trees

that bring us to knees.

Please listen to me

you’re all I ever see.

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Because no story tells

how hard I did fail.

Escape did I the hell

by light you compel.

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That nurtures my place

where I elevate my pace

where footsteps you trace

leads you to my face.

---

See the scars complete.

Where walked my feet?

Upon this lonely beach

I wear chameleon pleats.