I sit here
reading much of what's written
from the reception of
the liar, the cheater
the deceiver, the ex-boyfriend
identity
all of which, at one point
have been ascribed to me
perhaps I don't belong, I wonder
but if I wander, then I am lost
I consider it my past,
a boy I once was, who died
a man reborn, who isn't any longer
yet even the closest of my loved ones still call me by that name
and I guess my very own voices within do as well
voices I must only ignore
I confess, when I consider it
Though I am not proud
I am also not sorry
In part - because it wasn't me, but died with me
and in part - because it was me, a piece of history
that has made me who I am
A peculiar feeling, difficult to describe
because I am entirely sorry to those living it currently
and there is where
my words fall short
I am writing for the record
that I may not be a fraud
that is what they call me
The pit that I've clawed
now I go on - living with
the dirt underneath my fingernails
I also hope my defense doesn't serve as contradiction to my confession,
I tried to write it, being as raw as I can be
edit: I think maybe "not sorry" isn't the best choice of words, because I am indeed sorry for the pain I caused, yet I hope it is understood what I intended to say