Fragments of Self

Apr 15

1 min read

So many of us spend years trying to be "true to ourselves"

But end up cutting ourselves into little pieces,

Molding each version to fit certain crowds.

I'm now so cut, so divided,

Just because I thought I wasn't allowed—

Wasn't allowed to just be.

There is something that speaks to all of us,

We can't see it,

But we hear it, loud and clear.

My eyes deceive me,

The same way we believe we deceive others.

Sometimes I ask myself:

What if these parts of me don't get along—do I lose them all?

Or am I strong enough to walk through the noise and still be whole?

*** An oldie, but a goodie

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