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The Pretender (poem)

Updated on April 6, 2013

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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    • ocfireflies profile image

      ocfireflies 4 years ago from North Carolina

      so good to know i'm not alone in getting caught up in the whole "there is no such thing as original thought" so I focus on the high I get when words original or not coming flowing freely-it is such a nice release

    • mcrawford76 profile image

      Matthew I Crawford 4 years ago from Greeley, Colorado

      Thank you for your comment, and I agree with everything you said here. But in my own search I found it difficult to bridge that span, contemplating on how much of my thoughts and reactions come from teachings versus how much comes from my own experiences. And even then are not my experiences normally an inflection of another's action?

    • CloudExplorer profile image

      Mike Pugh 4 years ago from New York City

      This is definitely one rough reality to bare witness too my good HP friend, and while looking deep within oneself.

      I believe that in order to find originality of oneself, its not wise if your looking outwards to much at various duplicates, imitation copies and the likes.

      I think one must look within the quite spaces of the mind, that of the heart and in thy soul, because even the open spacious cooridors of out space cannot provide such a visual proof of self identification, nor can the contours of the visible forms, shapes or sounds.

      I personally believe that we all are being of light that radiate and emit differing energies slowed down to such a speed that physical form is now possible. I hope this helps a bit, I came up with such a thought while meditating and stilling my mind many years back.

      Powerfully expressed poem here, I will share this one for you for sure, and on various networks I'm responsible for curating. Awesome stuff! thumbs up and the works.