� gold in my pocket � 2003-09-03 � 6:49 a.m. �
Who do we lie to ourselves? As a rule, why does it seem we walk around pretending like we're puppets in a travelling play... controlled by others... why do we look for other people to brand for our own mistakes?
I don't know why, but it seems as close to human nature as a mother's love.
He left a bit of gold in my pocket when he eased off... he took who I was and replaced it with reason... with the ability to see clearly, only through years of muck and guts to sort through... but it was there.
Finally, in the early morning, I see it clearly before me... a reason to turn my cheek to the shame... to stand higher in knowing I don't cheat myself... ever... There are NOT two pieces of me...
I am one girl... solid in know I'll survive.
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