authentic

destiny was not how i intended.
i mapped out a course of disheveled routine
and became content in micro-management.
how serene...

then...
the irreparable destruction of a heart from within,
as the despair of another shredded reality,
like love letters when a fabricated relationship ends.

and so i burned...
all former conceptions of beauty
and the contentment i had devised.
i dug a hole in the ashes so i could hide.

i never built walls, but no one came in.
just me, my dreams, memories...
and the incipient life inside of me.

i defiled my own authenticity to numb the pain,
and sequestered a new identity to play the life game.
people believed...

my newborn's eyes were first to recognize the lie,
to see me covered and cowering in all that ash
where he too had been...
for the first time in a year, i breathed.

i rinsed off the soot and gave god my name.
i tied hope to a balloon and prayed it would uncover me.
lost had become so damn easy...
no one knew. 

people have never been my sanctuary.
they deface emotion with deluded substitutes
and feign affection to paint masks of proof.
no one wants the under truth.

i disregarded the predetermined definitions
of who and what i should be.
the pain became metamorphic
and i transcended...

to a place that has no division
between the inner and outer view
where beauty is my own inscription
and destiny is my truth.