You called me a Saint

You called me a Saint,

Now you’re thinking that I ain’t

You’re trying to reconcile my purple hair,

And my love that don’t care

About gender or monogamy

With the picture you had of me.

Suddenly all my good deeds and qualities,

Are obscured by your moral blinders about love.

You can’t understand why I had to change.

I didn’t change I just removed the box that I didn’t fit in.

You’re just seeing all of me and it is making you question your reality and morality.

Age is just a number, but it made me wonder who I am living for.

I am too old and too bold to hide anymore.

If the last few years have taught me anything it is that tomorrow is not guaranteed.

I don’t want to die a small colorless version of myself.

Katrina Wightman