I don’t want to grow old and look young
I don’t want a porcelain face that doesn’t shatter when it feels
I don’t want a body that defies gravity, I want mine to be grounded
I don’t want manicured arms, bulbous lips and pristine fingernails
I want my hands to show how hard I’ve worked
I want to wear my mistakes and my triumphs with pride
I want every scar, every mark, every line, every wrinkle to tell a story
To tell you this person lived, this person laughed, this person frowned,
this person made it count
These lines grow as I do, let them tell the world
I am here, I am alive.

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wandering, laughing, boycotting evil, environmentalism, puns, vegetarianism, writing, annoying whoever will stick around long enough, writing music, singing, innuendo, busking, snowboarding and awkward leaning are all things I'm either enjoying or attempting with varying degrees of success.

One thought on “Porcelain

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