“I am not.”

I am not the poet.
I am not the painter.
I am not the writer.
Not the hacker of code
or the cooker of eggs,
although I do do these
things.

I am only
someone who needed
to be
these things;
to be
an artist;
to be
confident;
to be
vulnerable;
to be
validated;
to be
loved.

As the man I am,
I am not
these things.
I wish I was,
but I am not.

I am a self dividing
fraud; no better than
the simplest bacteria,
at best.
A human streptococcus
who managed to escape
his life's Petri dish.
Now,
I am in your throat,
presuming you are
reading this aloud.
Please do not cough me
out. Keep me inside
just a little longer.

I try to be
better than
I am.
All my life,
I have tried
to be these
things,
but I am
not the poet,
not the painter,
not the writer.

Although I am,
I am not.

And that is
not bad,
not to be,
because
I am not
finished
yet.

Are you?

narrative poem written on 04-12-2014 by: on mattkane.com
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