I’ll scratch off my name,
I’ll change my skin,
Rewrite my fate
And try again.
FYI, I’m not a sin.

It’s more than survival,
This is living
In blood upon white angel wings,
In sun, and stars, and everything.

Every day is life or death,
I vow that I will not be hid or kept,
I will not wait, I will not whine,
To wait is static, to wait is to die.
The longer you wait, the closer you step,
To suffocation, to your final breath,
And I refuse to suffocate.
And, so, I refuse to wait.

For years, I saw the TV glow
In pink opaque and white
And blue, and I wished I could know
How sweet it tasted,
Tasted like holy, angel light,
It told me that I decided my own right.

My right to live,
My right to speak,
My right to change,
My right to be.

My right to keep my skin,

My right to raise my chin,
I don’t care if my head spins,
If, FYI, I’m not a sin.

I am right,
And, by all means, I am me,
I am right in my own skin,
I am my own holy.