The Stranger Within Me

Inside of me there lives a stranger, who wants to be set free.
He is aware of who I am and who I wish to be.
He shares my deepest secrets and knows my conscience well.
He knows my views on living, on death, and even hell.
He knows my friends and knows the ones who aren’t my friends at all.
He isn’t shocked by what I say, when others would appall.
It’s clear to me, without a doubt, he knows me best of all.

When did he first invade my life; and draw my thoughts his way.
I don’t recall the time or date, can’t choose a single day.
One morn I woke and he was there, full grown and strong in will.
At work or play I feel him near. He’s here, now even still.
He is the man I used to be. That one was truly me.
He is the one, when people look, I want for them to see.
He has no flaws, he is of course, the man I want to be.

He’s handsome, smart, quite wise of course, and very very witty.
I never knew him in my youth, and that’s really such a pity.
For he knows his way around this world; it doesn’t cause him fear.
He’s bold, he acts decisively, cares not that others hear
About his plan to snatch each moment and shape it as he wants it;
To covet each small bit of it ‘til nothin’s left within it;
To get the best and most of life, until each moments spent.

That other self, it fades away, it joins its place with others.
For in this life of mine have lived a dozen other strangers.
There was a stranger, as a boy, whose mischief was his calling.
There were some more as I grew up, and some not worth recalling.
Each one would grow and learn of life and slowly fade away.
For in its place when new would come, the former could not stay.

And the me I see today, of course, was a stranger yesterday.
For the strangers of the past are gone, tomorrow’s are on their way.