Years when I knew myself slipped through my fingers
But the memories of that precise phase lingers
How do I try and find the real Me?
How do I bring back what used to Be?
I’m not sure what frightens me more
This scary history of a tour
Or that I just might find my inner roar
And thus begins the never ending war.
Yet I lay still and unsure
If I want to dig into its core
Who have I been all this Time?
Living without a defining line
And yet I wonder, who sees
This pages that I please
Or is it just my imagination that I tease?
Begging out loud to be heard on my knees.