…is what my name means.
I think it fitting, for me, so it seems.
I can never decide to which I belong.
Just as likely to commit right or wrong.
Perhaps I was predestined – I didn’t choose my name.
Someone must have known. Parents? God? The same.
Maybe my subconscious decided it should be so,
It heard my names meaning and let both sides grow.
Morality became fluid, bending at will.
Yet, who’s is a morality? Is yours mine? Is it still?
Why can’t I make up my own moral story,
On who’s authority does my conscience worry?
I think my morality is now all my own.
Yet for half of my actions, you beg I atone,
You pray I repent from what I think right,
Then laud my achievements round dinner each night.
I’m getting mixed signals, how can I be two?
Half of me perfect, half a false truth?
So it seems to me that the dark and the light,
Have split me even, half day and half night.
Half of me despicable, a monstrosity of lies,
Half of me perfect in your righteous eyes.
I need a connection, a passion, a choice to make,
I need to choose one or other – a single path to take.
The division is ripping, tearing me apart,
I feel joy in anger, hateful love in my heart.
With one decision, I’ll choose what I mean.
Of the Light and the Dark isn’t very fitting, it seems.