I don’t want to be a hero today.
I don’t need people to read my worries
To make themselves feel better.
The rising action is driving me crazy.
I don’t want people to watch as I teeter on the edge—
To wait to see how I handle my problems.
My life has no falling action,
No resolution—
No happy ending.
I’m still living and yet,
They’ve all stopped reading,
Quit paying attention.
My life’s been tossed to the side
Because some critic said it was
Slow developing
Over emotional
Slightly psychotic
They graded me and said
Over analytical
A bit disturbing
An unreal character
I don’t need them to tell me how to be.
I can continue on a path of most resistance.
I can and will be published
On the faces of my children and grandchildren.
People will read my legacy in the things I’ve done—
Not in what some publisher said would make HIM money.
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