By Tony DeLorger © 2012
Complicit in my own demise,
the rancid waste of compromise,
in all the endeavours I know in truth,
are mine to pursue, my path from youth.
Without purpose and lost in the trite,
my sleep is twisted , an endless night,
when who I am is bare and raw,
my soul does plead in act restore.
Happiness is choice I know that real,
but pretence a veil even sceptics fear,
being true to oneself is both sound and a must,
without which our circumstance we cannot trust.
In following a heart to exact a life,
we tread a path without compromise,
and in that joy of being this path rewards,
no regrets are possible in delight awards.
What we are at core is often clothed,
by all the cloaks that life imposes,
yet beneath that lie our soul does battle,
to free itself and be all that's possible.
Being true, regardless of difficulty:
judgement, segregation and misunderstanding,
is a great accomplishment.
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