It occurred to me–a mystery of sorts,

How inward and outward my image became.

I think through others witty retorts,

They’ve morphed the person they know by name.

.

Is this not how we all evolved,

Our identities molded by family and friends?

Who we were born is not who we’ve resolved;

Veering off our path for one that bends.

.

Rules of life, though they often change

Undeniably forming our moral core

Relations with others and loves they arrange

Knowing right from wrong they ensure

.

Perhaps it would have been easier to leave me to fate

Than to manufacture a me into this limbotic state.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~