This is a poem I wrote back in 2011.
"Relate, desecrate, crucify, justify.
Hollow heart; forever beating.
Sorrow, forever my companion,
blackest of black; sincere lies.
If I told you the truth,
pain would be my virtue.
Suffer, bleed, suffer, cry.
These tears are an eternity of who you are.
They forever burn my skin;
a constant reminder of who I'll never be.
Fragile smile, fragile fear..."
-Franco Mostert 13 February 2011
Reading this poem now, I realised how much I have grown as person.
Although I will always consider myself a gypsy in the sense that I do not
conform and try to fit it, I have made peace with that, compared to a few
years ago, when I felt a gypsy meant being an outcast, odd and weird.
I am forever a gypsy, scars remind me just how I have come ;D