The world's greatest tragedy?
Maybe it's when someone you used to talk to,
for hours on end,
someone you used to be so close to,
someone you used to love;
Possibly it's when you give up on yourself,
when you laze about,
resigned to a miserable fate,
resigned to little but sighing and crying;
It could be when a child cries,
for a lost mother,
for father, brother, sister, anything,
for innocence fading and reality suffocating;
discovery of sin.
Whatever the case, whatever one thinks
is truly the most sorrowful event to take place,
I know which one is mine.
Not to lose a love,
not to acquiesce to fate,
not a child learning of the wicked;
though indeed they nearly head the list.
No, for me, for anyone, the worst:
to lose who you are.
Not just surrendering it, or death,
nothing so dramatic or even close to sudden.
I speak of a gradual shift, and not growth,
for that is a happy occurrence.
No, letting your identity slip, slowly, over time -
allowing events in your life, or the forces of eternity,
or, most insidiously, other people, to shape
how you react, think, and speak;
such is tantamount to spiritual suicide.
I wouldn't wish it upon the worst scum of the earth,
for the simple thought of it hangs heavy on my heart.
So stand fast, friends,
for you alone dictate your core;
you alone can choose to die
either a pawn of the pressures that surround you,
or actually yourself, in the flesh
Copyright © Andy Sprouse | Year Posted 2013
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