Untitled - IV
04/06/2019
This story has many tentacles
Fervently awaiting "The End"
I Am
Child Parent
Spouse Divorcee
Abused Abuser
Friend Enemy
Loved Hated
Simple Simpleton
Transparent Evasive
Amenable Dogmatic
Fearing Fearful
Extremely naive Equally stupid
These and many more masks
That stare back at me
That even the tiniest shard
Reflects a different story
But then I know it too well
That the story I want to tell
Will vastly differ, when
To validate, others are compelled
Though the events remain the same
It's my perception that I hold
Or those viewed by others
Becomes the script on how it's told
I may choose to go it solo
Or rely on others viewpoint
But once exposed on the net
No place to hide in this joint
The critics will come forth
For they viewed it differently
Challenge my version of the tale
For misunderstanding the events, apparently
So you see,
So many tentacles says history
Present myself as a fictional character
Or tell it like a Biography
If I am honest with myself, I won't hold back and tell it like it was, the good, the bad and the ugly. I had a thousand joyous moments and equally sad. Furthermore, I may recall it differently, to other participants of the same event. Even a simple activity, like swinging on a backyard swing, can be written up as a chapter. So many shards, so many tentacles ..... P.S, I drew this in Indian ink, a long time ago, and fits this poem perfectly.