“Who Am I?”
I am, who I am,
Whoever that is,
Whoever I was,
Whoever I become.
Others try to tell me
Who I am or should be,
I try not to listen to them,
Because in truth,
As to who I really am,
I don’t actually know,
At least for now I’m not,
One hundred percent sure.
Is there a Committie somewhere,
That directs such things?
Purveyors of personalities,
Dispensers’ of intelligence,
Measurers’ of ambition and success?
How to look, how to dress?
What is too fat,
What's too thin?
Perhaps some kind of scale,
To measure up,
Or down too?
Maybe there’s some magic formula,
When Mixed and taken,
Makes us who we “should” be?
But then, according to WHO?
As for all those other people,
Well meaning or not,
How can they possibly know more
About me, than I do?
I am a Work in progress,
Until I fail miserably,
Or until I’m dead,
Please have the decency,
To allow me, to be me,
And the time to find out.
'Cause frankly, all your
Premature pronouncements
Regarding me and who I am,
Is some really boring shit!