Endless steps forward, no way back
We paint our lives in Sharpie ink
Strokes of colours, a masterpiece
An abstract of a happy ending
Mere lines and curls and rainbow blocks
A Picasso continued through the years
Millions of different views through the same looking glass
Whose perception is reality here?
Is my life defined as a mistake?
Something I’ve considered many times
Is it sepia, another string of
Incoherent words, a hasty rhyme?
Do you see my unfinished biography
As potential, as something more?
Do those lines on my life’s canvas
Renders a star yet to be born?
Countless people, countless perceptions
Their judgements blurring into one
I’ve lost track beneath their narrow-minded
Views on what I should’ve done
I lost my identity the day I presided
Over expectation’s meeting with reality
Their heated arguments, hell-bent on victory
Each putting their stake on me
Each time I look into your eyes,
An expectation avalanche weighs me down,
The same reflects in all those faces
Surrounding me, fencing me in
Why can’t my reality prevail?
Why can’t they hear me as I plead?
Why can’t they accept my own version
Of the life I’ve lived and want to lead?
A simple question: Who am I?
The answer to which I should have
Yet whose description is true and whose is false?
Amongst all the answers that we gave
We pride ourselves that we know what’s true
That reality is within our grasp
But how do know that we’re not a mere reflection
The shadow in the mirror, naught more than that?
Where do we put the line that separates
The imagined and the real?
Perhaps with our life’s Sharpie ink
We draw our own line where it most appeals
Us humans are forever children, drunk on self
Walking in circles, leaving regrets
Deluding ourselves that we understand
That we know the answers to life’s tests