The price of what I thought was staying true to oneself came with a very heavy price tag.
I can’t actually say I would have changed all that much if I could but maybe;
I would have tried harder to explain myself instead of surmising people would know.
How were people supposed to know who I really was when I worked so hard to hide?
And in the end I’m found lacking , unworthy to some and maybe even despicable to a few.
I guess like freedom there was a price to pay and I pay with the sorrow of knowing;
That even with all the regrets there’s nothing much that can or will undo any of it.
So much like an old clock that slowly loses time much of life becomes unwanted refuge;
Where the hole dug is never deep enough to keep away the odor of wasted time