Is It Too Late To Be ME
Hello, old friend,
We've journeyed together around the world;
My cloak and dagger of fear and anger;
The accustomed sweet pain of despair;
The ungrateful soul searching, waiting for the clouds to lift;
Forgetting all its accomplishment; the battles won;
The happiness and laughter that once was;
The blood spilt for friends and family;
Yet, I see the old familiar self defeat;
What about me!
I cry out in anger, how long should I please you?
Above the clambers of demands and expectation, called obligations
Am I to be imprisoned till I’m old and aged;
Crippled and bent;
To see freedom only at life’s end?
I’m alive now, look at me;
I cry for help too,
Don’t you see?
I don’t want just platitudes, of how great I am;
Only, freedom, to be who I Am.
I am tired of carrying your pain;
To live the life you could not live, just to appease.
I’m tired of fear imposed by all, parent, churches and all;
Reality all a skewed, to hide behind the vicissitudes;
My dreams dim away.
The existential crisis creeping in, in the quiet moments of despair;
Is it too late to BE ME?