” For so long
I’ve been telling myself stories
that have never been part of me,
only pieces of who you
created me to be.
Being honest is not a trait
you can acquire without
allowing yourself
to enter the empty rooms
that lie within.
I have been replaying
your words
as some dramatic scene
forever and ever
broken down in acts.
The stories we told ourselves
have been pathetic and sad.
I cannot seem to find my own
path to enlightenment
while hanging on to your fallacies.
For every step I take forward
doubts creep up
and fear whispers your stories
full of deception
appearing like echoes
to some little girlish voice.
What do I know to be real?
What do I know to be fabricated
by the master manipulator?
There are stages, layers, and fables
that try to persuade me.
I am moving forward
and taking a leap of faith
into the unknown.
This is not a Shakespearean story
where someone dies from
a tragic love affair.
This is a screenplay
with a happy ending
and the light illuminating on stage
is coming from the Divine. “
Great poem!
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