Even though I am guilty as hell.
I make pretend like all is well.
Figuring out how to tell the truth the best of ways.
But at the same time diminish the shades of grays.
Freedom is the illusion I had when things fell through.
In spite of it, the things I loved, I found I long outgrew.
Though I stand tall, proud, and great.
Still I find I am treated second rate.
I tried so hard to prove that I am beyond that.
Broke my back to gird the soul and trim the fat.
So much was banked on me no help was suggested.
Nonetheless that task was harder than expected.
It's a new year and I am tired of trying
To satisfy everyone and pay their fine.
But it is not too late to see the blueprints and pour down a base.
Perhaps seeing the smiles of others has long since lost its grace.
