In Sharpie Ink

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

The End

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