The Ballad of Me

I tried not to feel it

Yet not feeling it was so much more painful than feeling it

I tried not to need, thinking that if I could not need

I’d get what I needed

I knew this wasn’t it, and I ignored that knowing

In all the ways I knew how

I built a shrine to myself

I sang the ballad of me

My triumph when it was turning out well

My fault when it was turning out bad

Intent on proving myself right

I waited (in vain) for you to validate my version of me

Let’s face it: we’d almost rather kill ourselves

Than admit this isn’t who we are

Here’s the thing: It’s all totally innocent

We can only be what we are