Who I Am

 

I love little more
than being who I am,
but I’ve been ashamed,
by failing your exam.

I chose multiple choices,
and answered false and true,
but none of me was in it
when I gave it back to you.

I guess I thought it proper
to astutely play my role,
and I stood there, dumb,
as the red pen marked the whole.

If I’d been thinking clearly,
and if I’d been brave enough,
I would have drawn across the page
all kinds of brilliant stuff.

Painted Fire

 

I can bear the boredom,
I can pay the price,
I can perform the labor,
and I can roll the dice.

I can commit the time,
I can endure the hurt,
I can sacrifice,
and I can stay alert.

I can do a lot
to get the life I crave,
as long as I am not
required to be brave.

I can resign my life,
I can accept demise,
I can think destruction,
and I can close my eyes.

I can do a lot
to throw it all away,
but I have always dreamed
of a life that lives like play.

I am a feeble sketch,
with a penchant for desire,
sailing in the wind
towards a painted fire.