It is said you can’t know someone
Unless you can walk in their shoes;
But some people want to tell me
How I should march in their steps.
Others may recognize my voice,
But don’t like what actually comes out;
Assuming a magisterial tone,
They are set on telling me my tale.
But am I or am I not myself?
How do I truly perceive me?
Who in fact is paying attention?
And am I really what they expect?
Neither bluster, bluff, nor empty show,
I am not dressed up in some sham;
Self-respecting and conscience free,
I am unique and different from all.
Even if I tried, I could never fool myself,
Nor be bound by another’s preconceptions.
I stride in my own road-worn sandals,
True Conductor of this immodest opus.
© 2026, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.