The Pretender (poem)
As I sit by the river watching the fog cascade
I contemplate if my whole life were a charade
The realization slapping me in the face
That I perhaps have never known my true place
Is everything I know just a copy of another?
Is everything I have from my parents and brothers?
If my speech is not mine
Every word that I rhyme
Once belonged to someone before
Original thought is no more
So here I hide behind this mask
Forming with every single task
Be the man I’m meant to be
(Don’t you know that inside I am screaming?)
Sitting beside this old oak tree
If I’m not me than who am I?
(Tearing at the walls, ripping out my hair)
Is there someone else that could abide?
(Pounding my fists until they break and bleed)
Just a copy of another that stands by my side
(ripping apart my flesh, tearing at my chest)
If there ever was a real me, why can't I remember?
Or just a pathetic clone.
Nothing truly my own.
Just a copy
Just a copy
Nothing but a pretender?
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