I write to be a liar.

When words of concern squeeze me into concrete cracks
I can assure you, I’m fine,
It’s the girl on paper who needs saving.

It’s not me, it’s you,
Ink-stained girl who was birthed from
My pen and soul

You are the weak one
The traitor to my heart
You are the abortion
The neglected
And despised

I am the god of your Words of Wisdom world
And I cast you out of Eden because there was none less deserving.

If I write you, claim to create you,
You are not me,
A figment, a facet, and fable with no morals
Just my character, not a reflection of my deposition.

I wrote you to baptize me.