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Own Name.

No confidence, apparent ambition
or sense of direction.
Cradled and pushed every step
of the way.

Hanging onto established patterns
as if it were a ring buoy.
If a dream were in arm’s reach,
should I, would

an arm extend,
fingers reaching in thirst
for something more?

You owe so many so much.

Guilt is just self-flagellation.
Living here smothers the soul.

Can you push
through, pay back your debt
in some way, or are you fated
to endure shame: awareness
that you just rode coattails

and in the process,
your own name?


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