As the years pass
and I get older
I feel the hands
of those departed
resting on my shoulder.
They bring with
them a sense of
calm and serenity
that lets me pause
for a minute to
confirm my identity.
After a lifetime of
worry about what
others may think
I have found
my purpose with the
help of a little ink.
Instead of storing
my feelings in my head
I decided to write
them down so that
they could be read.
Now that I am
able to set
my troubles free
people are finally
seeing the real me,
A different version
whose thoughts
have no limits
and now who
treasures a life that
no longer prohibits.
The 50 year old poet 
The Real Me is good. Writing down all your thoughts for you privately or to share is a way of releasing pressure. Over the years I have documented lots of stuff. I can imagine what my family might say when and if they read it when I’ve gone, they really don’t know the real me. Cheers
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I’m at the same place in my life. It has taken me decades to find the courage to write my story.
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Wonderful poem! Enjoyed reading 💙
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Cheers.
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Realestic absolutely true feeling of one’s inner child. It’s amazing. Cheers….
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Thanks.
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✨ 🌷 ✨
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