what I’m not

I’m not the superficial conversations about the rain
draining away my reservoir powers,
with their chitter chatter, pitter patter
leaking through my shoes

I’m not the chavs on the street
littering my flowering garden,
with their beer canned laughter
careering through my windows in summer

I’m not the unkind bullies
jumping on the backs of the many
with their barbed wire mouths
hitching rides on the unfortunate

I’m not the men who are callous and unkind
hating every living soul
with their blood red nails
sprinting away from themselves

I’m not the masked racists
smiling beneath pale skins
with their throw away comments
widening the spaces between us all

but i admit I've been all of these,
living different lives,
completely unaware of myself,
desperate for any identity to make my own.