Post by holdensbroallie on Jul 28, 2012 16:30:43 GMT -5
From Grace
I am a different person than I knew ten years prior,
To even claim I know this new man surely makes me a liar.
I wake up each morning and find a stranger in the mirror,
I see a new person, one totally unfamiliar.
The change is etched much sharper than the delicate erosion of aging,
One hundred pounds heavier, half the hair, most of which is graying.
Still the physical changes are small,
Weighed against those within my psyche.
I’m short on words, wit, and wisdom –
all that once defined me.
Happiness and success are victims of relativity,
I’ll never know their joy, wearing a mask of new me.
I’d die a thousand deaths,
to wake up the man I knew.
I’d die a thousand more,
to live as him one day through.
But as the man said,
If I can’t be my own,
Would I feel better dead?
I am a different person than I knew ten years prior,
To even claim I know this new man surely makes me a liar.
I wake up each morning and find a stranger in the mirror,
I see a new person, one totally unfamiliar.
The change is etched much sharper than the delicate erosion of aging,
One hundred pounds heavier, half the hair, most of which is graying.
Still the physical changes are small,
Weighed against those within my psyche.
I’m short on words, wit, and wisdom –
all that once defined me.
Happiness and success are victims of relativity,
I’ll never know their joy, wearing a mask of new me.
I’d die a thousand deaths,
to wake up the man I knew.
I’d die a thousand more,
to live as him one day through.
But as the man said,
If I can’t be my own,
Would I feel better dead?