Do we really have a choice
to be someone other
than
what we are
what fate has decreed for us
maybe if I lived in seashells
the way she does
I could
only I can't and I suspect
she can't either
stuck in what she calls a morbid case
when it's possible for her to be
much more than that
so as she says we might never know
who she really is
falling in and out of love
with what she
professes to be
at the moment
we not quite able to catch
a glimpse of the real
self
when she scurries
from this seashell to that
judging her not by what she is
but what we think she is
including me
since all she does is
like a puppet show
her fingers pulling strings
on characters we mistakenly
believe as her
want to know who she really is
that ghost I see when
I look
long and deep into
her eyes
and see the shape scurrying
to escape detection
or the bright light
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