nobody really knows me

truth?  or lie?

empowered thought or desperate cry?

my whole life i’ve parceled out pieces of myself thinking it was them – better than me.

handing over power, seeking pats on the back and enabling unhealthy patterns where i am not the lead.

47, the programs run deep, yet lack depth.  irony, blasphemy.

such total bullshit, i’m at a loss …

for words,

for patience,

for me.

 

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