When do we discover,
Who we are?
Does it take a minute,
Or a millennium?
Do we suffer more before we reach that turning point?
When do we stop failing,
To feel the way we say we feel,
To act the way we want to act,
To be who we desire to be?
When do we understand
Transitions, understand
Our place
And who we never knew we loved?
Do we end up alone?
Do we weather the storm?
I think I can,
With enough whiskey,
And if I can write again.
But I can’t
When do I become,
Who people say I am?