My Story by Chrissie Robb

Tales abound
But mine
Has never been told
Should I tell it
Now that I’m old
Equal parts of shame and glory
But isn’t that
Everybody’s story?

How do I know what jot it’s worth?
Does it have breadth
A sizeable girth?
How does it measure
Against all others
Will it be buried as just another’s

Do all stories amount to the same
Is it just God’s gigantic game
To let us assume
We define ourself
When we’re merely a package
Pulled from the shelf

In heaven’s pantry.
Already processed and packaged
For public use.

A model X
Tried and true
Going through
What a million others
Have gone through

Is that why we recognize
Lives on the screen.
As somewhere we’re going
And somewhere we’ve been?

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