What I must look like from the outside.
I can almost understand
the banshees that scream against us.
All they see is my drowned potential,
my blighted spirit,
my spiraling downfall.
They look for a scapegoat,
as even I sometimes do.
All eyes, like daggers, on you.
But what I deny
and what they don't see
is that nobody is responsible for me
but me.
And if anyone is,
maybe they should be,
because they were the ones
depicted as guides.
They were the ones
who could have rightfully advised.
But they chose to step aside.
So this is my province,
my charge and my duty.
If I fail or succeed,
make no mistake,
it's on me.
The wasted time
was almost endless
but filled with lessons,
and I'm more prepared now
than they dream I must be.
What I look like is not who I am
and my fate remains in my hands.