This one is mine

This one is mine

It's like were always fighting:
To be what we want to be.
To strangers- to lovers-
to everyone under our covers.

We fight our brave fights,
misdt all the debre,
scattered memories of people-
saying who we really are.

Take me sweet virgin.
Take me to praire town.
Force me to live
who I am.

Force me back down,
near to my pyche.
The one, who holds a mirror
that is true.

I hold sted fast to it.
The reflection I see,
but it shatters
from the verbal affair.

My pyche is jealous
angry and mean,
and bitter from the laughing-
sweet faces.

She, oh yes, she.
Better than anyother.
Holds me,
down to her breasts.

And take me on in,
to a place that I know,
a place,
that we all like to call home.

-Matthew Koutzun