Poem On: Day 11

Ditto (#132) 

[with apologies to ED]

The face I carry with me last,
A face devoid of love or grace,
I am afraid to own a body.

I think just how my shape will rise.
To be alive is power.
Purple is fashionable twice.

To fight aloud is very brave.
My life closed twice before its close.
These final creatures, who they are—

Good to hide and hear ‘em hunt.
I’m ceded—I’ve stopped being theirs.
At last, to be identified!

I’m nobody! Who are you?