Who wasn’t I, trying to hide,
Show the world a respectable face,
Shop in Next, wear brogues and a tie,
Put on a jacket, a blazer, try and look smart.
Wearing fancy dress every day was no fun,
I never looked right, never looked the part,
Inside a little, each day part of me was dying,
I put on a smile, never fitted in, who was I kidding?
A slave to expectations, shackled to what people thought,
So lonely, slacks and a biscuit, afraid a conversation would start,
Then my life completely fell apart,
I was no one, with nothing a new beginning.
No slacks, no tie, no brown brogues, no looking “smart”,
My hair has grown, my beard is wizard, it’s a midlife crisis,
I have tattoos and even got myself pierced,
Not just clothes I burned that night.
I talk more now, my conversation lively, the laughter daily,
A dear friend, wise counsel, trusted I listen closely,
No longer fake, my time with people I now take,
I am not smart, I don’t shop in Next, or own a tie,
I have Converse over 32 pairs,
My jeans made in prison, hats that belong at fairs,
No dream I could dare would picture me laid bare,
Gave it a shot, wasted all those years, cried too many tears.
No more, no more, than man is gone,
Limping tall, battle leaves its mark,
I am not fake, I have not failed,
Do not believe all those tales.