My versions

There have been so many. And yet they were all in some way the same.

The mirror doesn’t lie.

Yes, it does. It does when it is reflected inside my head.

I couldn’t decipher this world at all for the longest time.

And then everything slipped into view. And back out, again.

It was always me there right at the centre I swear it and yet,

I am somehow unrecognisable to myself.


They didn’t correct my thinking. But boy did they try.

Stubborn. They said it like it should hold shame.

It’s hard to rebel when you don’t really know what the alternative to everything you have ever known really is. People don’t understand that and so they just look at you.

Faces blank.

I don’t blame them. I do the same.

When I am looking in the mirror.

I know it’s my face but.


I remember a time when nothing mattered

but I had the weight of all of it pressing down.

I didn’t ask to be the way I am. I just am. Somehow.

No design.

They tried that. I didn’t fit that mold. They gave up.

I don’t blame them they didn’t know any better and in their own twisted way

they did the best they could.


Now I have found something deeper.

The sacred in the mundane.

And there is plenty of it to go around. The well overfloweth.

With my cup of joy.

It’s hard to tell by my face.

Why doesn’t it register.


Who am I narrating to that is the question

We all ask it occasionally

Me more so.


It’s worth asking because I used to think I was just practicing for conversations that I never had, and maybe I was.  

Why are you listening when I am all in inside my head but the minute my mouth opens you tune out.


You hold off on me now knowing my fingers will do the talking and they do it so well even if I do say so myself.

But when I need you and we are out in the open asking for your help you leave me speechless on my own.

Don’t get me wrong I am glad you are here and that I can use you to create works I enjoy reading as they dance across the screen.

But it would be nice if you turned up more when I don’t have a keyboard or notepad in front of me and when my words are only those that have to be spoken.

It would be nice if both of you turned up once in a while. And not just one of you.

If it’s only one, then the words with no one to listen or the awareness when no one being present. It’s not the same.

And if you can do it now when I am alone late at night.

Why can’t you do it when it matters.

I know you can but turn up more.

It is so worth it when you do.


But then how did it get here.

Spouting out these semiprecious platitudes of obvious breeding.

It’s the same when you can start again.

It’s not the same playing field and so you do just fine.

You just don’t realise it half the time.


I get it I just don’t fully trust it going forward.

There needs to be a better game plan to start to enjoy it.

There has to be,

I mean what else.

Continue on from blunder to blunder.

Is that really our strategy.

You have to ask because it has a great chance of getting better

If only we buy into it but don’t scratch

That is an itch that is meant to go unnoticed

It never changes

It is all the same

In the end

But then that is part of the fascination we have with it all

In the end

I guess that is what I am feeling

And that is why

We move on

Because we have to..




Photo by Andre Mouton from Pexels:

Written by Sam

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