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Who Am I Without Others' Labels? -- A Rhyme to Inspire

Val enjoys writing his own style of what resembles poetry, just hoping to catch someone's heart on the same page.


Labels are for filing. Labels are for clothing. Labels are not for people.

-- Martina Navratilova

Who am I?

They gave me a body manly and strong

and bunch of rules to make me complete

along with a flag as true excuse to belong

also a childhood too short and rarely sweet

and god to be called should things go wrong.

Innocent in ignorance, but always so good willing

with a legacy of lies they inherited from others

they passed it on to me to make it my ceiling

with love of parents, with care of brothers.

All those labels as if meant to annoy

something else demanded by each

not letting me stay just a little boy

everyone with lectures to teach.

Years passed and life happened in a hurry

fragmented self just becoming more so

making reality undefined and blurry

and me in it just as unclear also.

So many times when they called my name

there was something phony in that sound

like missing picture from a signed frame

in a gallery of empty frames all around.

Who am I?

Sometimes at a junkyard a flower might grow

after all those masks and fig leaves are torn

with all those calendars so little to show

and just left with enigma of being born.

But driven from within by a stubborn quest

like a caterpillar surprised by a pair of wings

I drifted through my years in search of my best

with humbleness of beggars, and dignity of kings.

Who am I really -- and does it matter?

this joy of being doesn't need a label

it's like I got my life on a silver platter

every single crumb on my royal table.

© 2022 Val Karas

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