Where’s Redemption?
I am my own project,
tunefully composing my theme song,
using my own thoughts, voice, and soul.
There’s no mistaking
my well-orchestrated, stable grounding,
except by those who are tone deaf.
I have memories of promises sung to me,
then broken - nails on a chalkboard.
The cheaters have accused me,
chiming about my lively past exaggerated.
Liars have accused me,
vocalized about my escapades that never happened.
The insecure want me in their choir,
but they refuse to press the pin
that loosens the spring latch of the music box,
and release benevolence.
But I don’t choose to harbor resentment.
I only wait for considerate mention of me.
And at the end of all those songs comes payment,
and mine shall be exoneration.
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