I have been always a dual person,
What I want to be and what people would perceive of me,
These two keep their distance.
Sometimes I would want them to think of me in a certain way,
I would clap and dance when they wanted me to,
At other times I was more of stubborn than sensible,
Not giving it to them.
Which would amount to my own harm often,
As time would later tell.
But I am a person,
And to give up every time without scratching,
Is against what defines human from animal.
It’s like raking an abandoned highway
For a penny probably made of something precious,
Whose story your mother would tell you over and over again
Every night because you were otherwise too restless
To believe sleep is a better treasure.
Time will bring the dirt that comes with the wind on that highway,
But the penny, it might or might not.
When I think of the necessity of being dual,
It dawns upon me,
We are told we need to show we are better.
Better than what they know us to be,
The show must go on.
But when they go back to sleep,
Every one know they are wretched,
Nothing more than a sheep of the flock.
Just like that old hag who they laugh at on daytime,
For not being bright enough.
Just like that freedom loving spinster who they secretly admire and generously loathe at same time.
They know they had drunk, fornicated and what not,
They have made their rules for others to follow.
And God is just a father figure useful for scaring others into returning their debts.
And blaming for situations they made a blunder of,
And to ask for forgiveness just before they breathe their last.
To wash their hands, on and off.
I am a victim of that framework,
Of what my forefathers kept on passing.
That duality hits brick by brick
On the wall that is withering way because I cannot keep a mind of my own,
It’s too expensive,
In times like this.
I am not a fool to resist.
It might cost a lifetime of futility,
To merge into one,