On Authenticity

There’s a mistake I never even knew I made --  
 abandoned myself  
  years ago, afraid.  
Believed I could submit, commit  
 to never showing  
  never growing  
   beyond that snug hole I dug.    
Thought I was safe    
 in this satin-lined chest  
  six feet below my self I would rest  
   
I even dared to call it    
blessed  
   
But the air is stale  
 I can’t inhale  
  the kool-aid went sour  
   and I feel my power punching    
and clawing my own damn way out  
 ready to shout  
  find out who to blame  
What must I kill to claim victory    
 over shame  
It’s time to end the waiting game  
   
Now I recognize the hands that choke me out  
 and the biggest fucking joke, no doubt  
  is that I have always been my own captor  
   holding me back from my next chapter  
   
Dear protector - your work here is done  
  What the hell do you think you’re saving me from?  
This year, a new beatitude I’m writing:  
blessed are the naked --  
   
no more hiding.  
 
 
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