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!
Copyright © Clevia Bedeau | Year Posted 2018
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