Stories We Tell

 

The facts are fixed—they do not bend,
But stories shape them in the end.
One tale will trap you in despair,
Another finds the light in there.

 

At five, I learned to think alone,
No throne, no rule, no sacred tone.
In one tale, I was set adrift;
The other saw a precious gift.

 

By eight, I swore I'd never fight,
In fear, I vanished from the light.
Or maybe that’s the day I knew
How deep my love of life runs through.

 

Same facts, two lives—one dim, one bright,
The lens decides the wrong or right.
You are the tales that you do spin,
The voice you trust that speaks within.

 

At ten, my father’s distant gaze
Could cast me into shadowed haze—
Or mark the spark I vowed to keep,
The dream that wouldn’t fall asleep.

​

At twelve, I swore I’d not repeat
The chains my parents couldn’t beat.
A vow of fear? Or strength begun
To build a life that won’t weigh a ton?

 

By fourteen, lessons piled on high—
Carnegie’s charm, Rand’s battle cry.
Was I a puzzle cracked in half,
Or learning how to choose my path?

 

Same facts, two lives—one dim, one bright,
The lens decides the wrong or right.
You are the tales that you do spin,
The voice you trust that speaks within.

 

At twenty, death became a dare—
Was I afraid, or just aware?
A dreamer lost, or one who sought
To stretch the bounds of human thought?

 

One story sinks beneath the pain,

Another learns to dance in rain.
But both were born from what was true—

It’s how you frame that makes you you.

Same facts, two lives—one dim, one bright,
The lens decides the wrong or right.
You are the tales that you do spin,
The voice you trust that speaks within.