The Artist Formerly Known As "Him"

My Artist

He dreamed me the reality

I had always hoped for.

A Family

A place to belong to...

A home.

He illustrated for me

A world

That I felt

Was all-inclusive

To my dreams;

Comfortable surroundings 

No reason

To roam.

Then, suddenly

Out of the blue;

The backdrop image

That my artist

Once meant 

To be my

Ethereal existence

Began to warp

Into

The versimilitude

Of a character

Much different from

Myself.

My costume

No longer

    Fit

The likeness 

Of the 

Now unfamiliar context

Engulfing me.

I began to feel

Lost.

No compass

To lead me back

From whence I came...

No way of knowing

Where I

Now 

Belong;

Or whether it is I

Or the 

Environment

That is 

Wrong.

I eagerly

And with great

Trepidation

Seek my Artist

To inquire

How this travesty

Has become

My reality...

But my Artist is

Gone.

When 

I attempt 

Again

To belong

To this

New

Subsistence

It is 

Then

That I realize

This place that I've

Been

Is not where

I will

Spend

My new life...

Because

In order to

Mend...

I will

Need my own

Pen.