I wrote this at the poetry workshop I went to today:

i'm not sorry for the wisdom that pours out of me, breaking through the cracks, bursting at the seams
i'm one of the rare few that can love to the point of invention, but believe me, I can hate to the point of invention, unapologetically
and i'm not sorry for being myself -
a gordian knot, a bois d'arc tree,
a technicolor, queer, living scream you
could never even begin to hope to parse, cut down to size in
thirteen lifetimes.
i've danced in the space between life and death more times than 
you've ever given yourself permission to live 
and you will never destroy me, not even in death. 
the empires i've built and burned 
out of beauty and rage, the space i've claimed and wars i've waged
to create who i am when you don't even know who you are - and you are twice my age... i'm not sorry for that. 
i've grown around you. i've loved around you. i've rested around you. i've learned that i didn't fucking deserve any of what you did to me. and i'm not sorry. 
you should be.