I Write For Me
Slowly I lost myself to time
Painfully I became someone else
I looped the chains upon my wrists
I closed the manacles myself
Dragging the good parts of me piece by piece to be shackled,
Imprisoned.
And prisoners innocent are most dangerous, angry.
Why am I here?!
But I refused to answer.
It was, after all, for the best.
It was, I believed, the only way to love.
Selfless to a fault, my own jailer,
And I stopped being a man beloved.
Perhaps she was never the woman I thought I loved.
Deception is complete when I'm deaf to myself.
But life crawls into spaces abandoned
Life... and by extension, love.
Without a tyrant, the prisoner was freed.
I came back to myself, learning... loving
Who I am. Who I was.
Dreaming who I will be.
And I write... expressing thoughts lofty and base,
I write for me. Selfishly.
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