Can what I have become,
What I desire to be,
What I should be,
And what the universe demands I become,
Ever truly be reconciled?
At what point in a life,
Do we count remaining days,
As opposed to counting the days past?
Spout the cliches, declare the value of our days?
At some point, the truth must be known,
But there must be a reckoning within one’s self.
And is the truth regarding me of value to others?
Is their knowledge of me of any consequence?
Or do I simply fear their judgment?
This life I live, is it for me?
Are my days a selfish attempt,
Only to find some personal joy,
To do those things from which I derive pleasure,
Wrapped up only in myself?
Or is this life lived for others?
Shall I live selflessly,
Seeking to make others happy,
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