My attempted sainthood

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I’ve faired my hands

At both men and women.

 

ANSWER :I’m better off as no one’s wife

 

This failure says more about me

Than the objects of my affection.

 

My love for what was, and what will never be

emotional unavailability as a lifestyle.

 

My need to be someone, anyone’s saviour

I just want to be the one reason you breathe

 

What a Christ complex!

 

So now I’m Chiron, the walking wounded

Unable to give into death’s pull.

 

A hermetical oddity in today’s world

On the quest to turn pain to gold.

 

Seeking to lose the self that craves

What brings suffering

 

Running toward suffering every time

My eyes turns from my fraility to yours.

 

2 thoughts on “My attempted sainthood

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