Your arrows don't hurt me,

intentional or otherwise,

they strike my thick hide,

and lose all momentum.

 

I'm strong enough now,

after all my incredible failures,

and the moments I could have,

died.

 

I'm rebuilt,

reborn,

reanimated.

 

I'll read it like a script,

because I know who I am,

as much as anyone can.

 

I've become something,

changed,

difficult to capture;

a lightning snake,

as thick as the moon,

with the strength of King Kong,

and the audacity of a hungry squirrel.

 

A moral compass like Dorian Gray's,

slowly changing,

but for the better instead.

 

You won't understand,

anything I've written,

but it's not about you,

now or ever.