Who I Am

I feel a longing to share who I am,

For the world to know my secrets.

I want them to see my deepest sinews,

To know my so-called Demons.

 

Inside of me is a longing for thrills,

To play some not-yet-played tunes.

I want to go where I've never been,

To Maine, India, the Moon.

 

To overcome the crushing reality

That someday, I will die. 

At least I want to go somewhere,

At least I want to try.

 

I'm not as fine as I may seem,

I need to find myself.

I don't know quite when, where, or how,

But I'll "put the lonesome on the shelf."

 

The best advice I ever got 

Was be youself, no more, no less, 

And though I try to follow that,

It's unknown who I am, I confess.

 

My friends and I, we don't think alike. 

We fight about petty things,

Like how Politics and Religion rule the world

Versus how Art's the real King.

 

I don't often tell folks how awful I feel, 

I figure they'll run clear away.

My real self inside screams, "Don't tell them! Hide!"

I say, "Yeah, it's too hard to convey."

 

I've tried and tried to no avail,

To know just who I'll be. 

I guess I have a ways to go 

In order to understand me.

 

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