Krazy Glue

I am a hot mess. This makes it hard for me to talk to you. You see there's me and then  again there's you.

In actuality there is more than one of me. In fact there are two. I'd rather there be one but can't seem to merge the two. One is pristine and brand new. The other is so old; stuck together with crazy glue. I can't do all that stuff we are 'posed to do. Like love one another and to thineself be true. I am all over the map. that's part of my charm and possibly my harm. I like that sassy part. the part with crazy glue. the part that's diana, deborah, angeline, whitney, and bobby too. So yeah, I'm a hot mess. I'm sorry but it's true. God's not done with me yet. But then again, how are you?

I can't fit into your box. But, then again what the who? For neither am I together or am I on the groud astrew. My picture is fuzzy in time it'll hold the truth. Until that time comes will I must bid you adieu.