Secret

I have a secret Sometimes I feel like…. I’m not good enough Like I somehow fall short of what you think I should be So when you whisper about my ‘picky’ hair and my sun-kissed black skin Ignoring my light that radiates from within That’s when the ‘feeling' sets in… This sensation of being some sort of wooden marionette Jerking to the rhythm of someone else’s drum Wishing, just wishing, that someday I’ll be For a day….an hour….one minute? The real me. It’s okay to be different you say Be true to who and what you are come what may Then why do you keep creating these moulds that I can NEVER fit in? How can the real me, feel free, to emerge from within? That’s when the ‘feeling' sets in… This sensation of being a chameleon Changing my colours to the whim of the wind Hoping, just hoping, that someday I’ll be For a day….an hour….one minute? The real me. Then, one day, just Realisation dawned Are you perfect? Do I really need to be? Don’t we all stumble and fall? But then we rise, we soar And triumph above it all. That’s when wisdom sets in… So when I look and see, this sea of wooden marionettes Jerking to the rhythm of someone else’s drum I scream, “STOP!” Stop wishing, and hoping, that they’ll like what they see Just be you Then let me be me!