Becoming
By Jackson Griffin Harpole
As a kid
though the divide was hard to see,
in all actuality
it was about me, me, me.
The signature’s template is a conduit
engraved upon thine semblance
devouring whole,
that shamed my greed.
As a teen
upon the ledge of sanity,
it’s harder to breathe in knowing
it’s not about me, me, me.
The fissured wake of waves
upon this devastating gravity
binding me to my old ways
a simple mind’s depravity.
As a man
whom grows by degrees
to reap freedom and know
it’s not about me, me, me.
A new character
is chiseled on the wall
an oath of affliction in which
ardor is, a kingdom to befall.
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