Searching for the Right to Hold a Legacy (Second Edit )

I wanna be more
than just a girl
you know

               –another one

of those Average Joes,
Plain Janes,
or Jane Does…
                    
             I
             guess
                       I
                         just
                                wanna
                                            be
this image in my mind,
where we flow
through life so easily,

where the past is just
the past
and not what makes
the present
that defines you,
                            or defined you;
despite the harsh overtones
of the root of Reality.

If only the cataclysmic
epiphanies 
were just figments
of impracticalities…

But the past paves way
for a reason,
and makes up the present
so that the future
can identify
with who we are,

                           or so they say.

But I?
I just want
to be
anything but
human for a second;
change the game a little,
rewrite the rules
so there’s no losers.

Then give it
all I got this inning,
and watch my chest
swell at my first,
real victory.
     
Or something like that.
A notion along those lines,
because even though I’ve
been living,
it’s still so hard to feel alive.

When every step forward
comes with three more going back;
Some of us keep walking for miles,
passing the same markers,
’cause all
second chances
are doing for them
is leading them in circles…

                         I
                      guess
                         I
                       just
                     wanna
                        be
               where the past
                      is just
                    the past,
                 uncorrelated
                       with
                        the
                     present
                        me;
lying awake at night,
struggling to stay awake
so my regrets can’t
come back to haunt me.

Because if I could,
I’d change everything
–rewrite the past events of my life
and erase them from my memories.

So maybe then
I wouldn’t feel
so human for a minute;
and the harsh tones of Reality
would just be a hazy pigment

of a practicality that never was;
and the only cataclysmic epiphanies,
are the realizations
that a weight’s been lifted,
and I’m free…

ⓒ Marie Meyers, 2013

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