Who I Was, Who I Am

A script exists for all of us,

none of which will drag on

no melodrama

only the reality of our lives.

 

We choose to want to know

long before we ever have a need

the two iconic parallels

oh wants and needs, oh travesty.

 

I once took a ride on a city bus

staring off into the world,

I didn’t notice my mother

walking alog the side.

 

Later that night she outed me,

said she noticed and tried to wave,

said I ha look, a certain disposition

like I was wanting a different life.

 

Mothers are funny that way,

not willing to share the reality

unless the effort is made beforehand,

the pains, such are gains we feel.

 

I once felt like my world was a Hollywood movie

no Oscar by any stretch

scene to scene playing out the real

inside the illusion of dreams never had.

 

What I was and now seem as I am

has no bearing on whom I wish to be.

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