A Different Drum
By: Kate MacDonald-Dunbar
I fight my natural instincts, trying hard to keep in step.
ignoring the beating drum that only I can hear.
While donning a persona acceptable to all,
A discerning eye is the one thing that I fear.
You might label me asocial, if you saw through my facade,
but the actress in me hides my lack of empathy.
I change like a Chameleon to deflect your piercing gaze
as I mimic caring, compassion, and pseudo-sympathy.
People come and they go, one-dimensional at best.
Years have passed and I know I don't love, I tolerate.
Divorces and discarded friends highlight that fact.
Although I don't feel hate, I merely denigrate.
I'll lavish my attention on you, listen to your facile tales,
build you up, and for the few weeks before you bore me.
I'll pretend we have a relationship, then I'll tear you down.
You'll think the fault is yours, and I'll be free.
I may say I want to change for you, connect and care
for the briefest of moments, I might even think I could,
but there's no need to set myself up to fail once more,
as clear hindsight and history dictates I would.
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