Only to be

 

Who am I?
They say you are smart, capable, refined,
But when I search myself, I’m harder to find—
I look in the mirror, the truth feels wrong,
What they named as me was never mine all along.

How am I?
They say you are gentle, patient, and kind,
But memory argues with what’s assigned.
I trace my past, each borrowed ideal,
And learn too late it was never real.

Where should I go?
They say climb the stairs, aim high, ascend,
But I stare at the steps that refuse to end.
I look above, my breath grows tight,
Some heights aren’t meant to be reached by sight.

What do I want?
They say gather the coins, let fortune decide,
But gold slips through fingers pried open wide.
I count what I hold, then what I lack,
My hands were never made to earn more back.

Who do I want to be?
They say be great, wear victory like a crown,
So I work with fire that burns me down.
I chase the name, the praise, the tone,
Only to learn that title was never my own.

Whom should I choose?
They say someone safe, a place to stay,
But I search for shelter that fades away.
I knock on doors, I brace in shame,
That which was promised never came.

Why am I here?
They say to dream, run and achieve,
But I stop at last—and finally breathe.
I see it clear, stripped bare and true:
I was never meant to be enough for you,
Only to be—
and that will do.

-- VJ