If I claim I was a terrible, horrible,
Evil no-good person,
It would be a lie, and it would be
Wanting always to be the best or the worst.
So now I’m destined to wander,
My bag full of pride a lot lighter,
And if I say I am done
With whatever ails me,
That would also be a lie.
I am not done, will never be done
Till the day I die,
But I am content to be human,
Naked and shaking with love
At the moment, and the next moment,
I just can’t say.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_qf9z0teYdz0GvAlaQq0HknbDLXuPgIs3tnBe_3Lps4aQrKFOl2mtsEIKBaGwL4dC0uOhWom2YWPqU8Ot8fR0bBYA1jZ6L9mz0m_FYlgjsN_HkZoUAVIFGo5yP6tnOY5nHevUztSTju8/s1600/Kocot.jpg)
Thanks to Mark Palinski for suggesting this poem.
Art credit: "Lonely girl with suitcase at country road," photograph by massonforstock.
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