An American in Paris

These lies belong to me. 

This belongs to me. 

The sun belongs to me, the smell of rain on the pavement belongs to me. 

The sound of voices rising in emotion, not song belongs to me.

This is an aubade to the future that will belong to me, not the future that already belongs to them.

The future who forgets.

Who leave me again and again.

These lies are what keep me alive day after day and these lies are the only truths that I know.

This is mine and you don't belong here. The politeness that you are used to, I don't know it; the world has never been kind.

You do not belong here. 

I've taken my heart out and smeared the blood on my keyboard

I've never seen an uglier sight

There is no beauty without sacrifice and I've never known nights of sitting in front of a radio letting my imagination give life to the story and I've never seen my father dance 

but I've seen the eyes of a son who did

And his honesty belongs to me.

Timothy Kelly.