Untitled

I am the epitome
Of all I wanted to be
Someone look at me
Someone look at me

Self made sore thumb
Colored and clothed
In some Goodwill replica
Of Josephs amazing coat
It is true
I love art
But so did Picasso
And he kept his paint
On paper
I want to say
"I did it all for me"
Because that is
The partial truth
But also I did it
For you
And him
And her
And them
So they could see that I
Was someone
Worth being seen

"You are the girl
Everyone wants to know"
She said
And I know it is because
My skin is pretty-
Or disgusting
Whichever suits you best
Because it is the same arms
That sit still under needles
That I raise into the air
As a symbol of worship
To a God
You may have a assumed
I couldn't believe in

I made this me
She came about
Like silk
The worm weaves
And weaves
And all that time
All that weaving
Lead up to a cocoon
And then the worm
Is a moth
And the silk is
Made into garments
And the moth is dead
But the silk lives
Forever
In splendid color
On dancers
On sleepers
On the rich
On the poor

If the silk is
The me
He intended
The me
He sees
Why is it
That I spend so much time
Swatting at a moth

I am the epitome
Of all I wanted to be
Someone look at me
Someone look at me