Free Verse

You expect me to be
Your perfect image
Of who I should be.
And it’s all good,
And it’s all cosy,
In your head;

Because I do admit
To playing the part—
For a while I did become
A perfect portrait for your wall.
But now no more
I keep up this act.
I write this in free verse
For its freedom that I crave—
Freedom from perfection,
Freedom to be imperfect,
To embrace my flaws,
And respect my space.
Maybe it is just a phase…
Maybe it is not…
I’d rather not say
For fear of the future.
And yet I know
That I’m no longer the person
That I was yesterday
And will change again
The following day.



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