I Want to Be What I Am

I want to be what I'm
In me lies what I'm
In my image judge me not
In my shadow measure me not
See in your eyes
See in your mind                     I don't mind your replies
What crystal clear sight you encounter
What blemishes you love to ignore
I would not mind but that's not me.

I want to be what I'm
The surprising autumn rain washing
Sultry airs of the summer so exhausting

The flowers that will melt all the bullets and sweeten them
           am I fed up of the rattling sound of the machine guns
The bookmarks that will fuck every error in each books
           in them wise men had separated us like we are devoted groupies
All the nuances of the native tongue I have lost in worshiping foreign words
           be one with the spirit no matter the mundane words galore
The germs that eat the scum of our surroundings
           there will be one less bastard, and one better way to deal with life

All the pain that saps the energy of bigots and gunmen and looters
All the pleasure that hits everyone pushing them down to a pit of orgasmic bliss
All the beautiful creation that makes all the heart fonder
All the ugly stuffs when all such is in me; all the air will be punctuated with beauty
I want to be what I'm, but to be, I have been walking a long way
I'm losing what I want to be—in my dreams
You have hardly anything to help
Your judgment is helping not, either—not that I care; it's funny.



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