A duplicit soul
A collision of dreams, a fractured whole,
The burden of a duplicit soul.
One half speaks in whispers—
Running barefoot through the forest,
Kissing the wind,
Forgetting that the world awaits.
The other half snaps back—
Keep your head down,
Count your coins,
Be good, be small, fit the mold.
They tear at my ribs,
splitting me in two.
Freedom screams in my throat,
But duty secures the noose.
Am I the mask or the face beneath it?
Am I the dreamer or the walls I built?
Every step feels like betrayal,
One part of me swallowing the other whole.
I’m stuck in between,
A figure of contradictions,
Both fire and ash.
And maybe that’s what it means—
To be me,
To be lost,
To be alive.
To want freedom so much it hurts,
But to fear it,
Just the same.