My originality, yes,
Can be overshadowed by who I
Resemble.

I assume positions and mannerisms
Like my dad,
I’ve been told.
The laughter, the cadences in dialogue
Similar on the paternal end, it seems.

Any mention of resembling Mom?
Not really,
Mostly the “like father, like son” interpretation.
I know I have Mom in me, though;
She even told me how I have her lips,
And my dad notices the excited energy Mom and I both have.
Time to break the norm:
I propose “like mother, like son”
For what I learn and have inherited from the maternal side.

I’m not just a mix of my parents, though,
I’m also a homogenization of those I encounter.

There were times where I would try
To emulate my brother’s life strength,
Letting words that try to haunt evaporate from memory.
Of course, when people advise me to “be yourself”
The truth becomes clearer as I experiment with ways
Of trying to escape the life-burdens only I can undertake
That mimicry only makes “me-me-cry.”

Sometimes I’d love my sister’s assertiveness,
How somehow the strength of her direct dialogue
Thunders when her mind is set on a course of action.

Too many instances
Where before friends my eyes become “copy machines”
Scanning what I see fit to scale, but unfit for me:
Folding my arms toughly,
******* my hands in my pants’ pockets,
Adjusting the cadences of my voice,
Adjusting the volume/tone of my voice,
Thinking I can think what others think.

How do I stay original, regardless of how I’m prone to change?
Well, at least I have one area of originality:
Who I’ve encountered
And where I’ve been
At uniquely arranged times fit for me.