(i think that i am) built to destroy

I think that I am built to destroy

though perhaps I don’t mean in the literal sense; though sometimes I do.

Since time began things break down, like cars that are new and shiny as long as they hold our interest;

then grow old, and dust-covered

When they don’t.

Towers fall to ruin; cities return to dust, lost like Atlantis to the turbulent, drowning sea that has many times attempted to swallow me.

I see so much about me, so much that cries for destruction.  So much self-assurance slowly,

perhaps knowingly, curdled to arrogance.

I want to grab these the purveyors of mysterious truths, these guardians at the temple of Seemingly Unknowable Knowledge, and shake them till their certainty falls away

till something afraid, something real

Is revealed.

I saw a woman on the train today.  She didn’t ask to sit down, but when I moved aside, she did.

She told me that she had difficulties finding clothing, because she wasn’t built like they said that she should be.

She saddened me because she was beautiful, and built like my mother.

My mother is gorgeous; ask her, she would say the same thing.

I am built to destroy because I want women to not think that THEY are the odd ones because clothing doesn’t fit as it should.

I am built to destroy because I want to define who I am

I am built to destroy because I know of no other way to learn, to earn, to grow

To be.


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