He meant to be both good and true.
But where he was was who he’d be
He would not wish to lie to you.
He thought he knew just who to be
Yet acted inconsistently.
He’d different faces, different lives.
His life so lacked integrity
That all the lives he lived were lies;
Not really sure of who he was.
Or who it was he meant to be.
A face for faces that he met
He was not whole, he was not free.
He couldn’t be true, would often forget
What he was for and who he was.
He couldn’t live authentically.
He hid himself afraid they’d see.
The self he’d hidden deep inside.
His hidden vulnerability.
He could not show them who he was.
Something deep inside had died.
Morgue-file photo by vickiayala
Andrew Green's Poems 
“Yet acted inconsistently”…Even though I try, I too find myself once in a while being inconsistent with the person I choose to be! This really resonated with me!
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I think it’s most of us if we’re honest. I’m glad you got that. Sometimes we can only see these things in other people.
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It is certainly easier to see things in others…
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I’m having issues with the word authentic. How about you?
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I’m fine with the word. Living it’s the tough bit.
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