The Chameleon

A poem about a chameleon of sorts.

Hello small chameleon

With disguises so sneaky and real

How you seem to change merely for

The pleasures of others around you


You tell people things you don’t think

And act they way you don’t want to act

Changing from muddied brown

When you instead want to be vibrant green


Things you told me are not

What you are saying now

I thought I knew you best

Dear little chameleon


You would always turn

A fiery spitting red of anger

Whenever she approached

And spoke with you


Before, that is


Now you’ve mellowed

Told me she’s not all bad

Told me she’s not all that weird

Despite never agreeing with me before on that


People have always seemed to enjoy chameleons

And how quickly they can change to please

But I’ve always found them to be

Too sneaky, too tricky, too difficult


For me to handle, but I suppose all the while

It must be difficult to keep all your disguises straight

How many? 3? 10? 20? How far will you go

Until everything falls apart?


I could do it

Make all of it end

Show everyone you aren’t what

You are to them


But I suppose that

A chameleon with no disguise

Is a chameleon left in the open

To the enemies it has possessed

So I suppose that

I’ll leave you to your mind games

Until maybe one day you decide

To stick to your pretty vibrant green

The End

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