In the end,

I am not their creation,

Not molded by their ideation,

Or shaped by their fabrication.

Cast off the dreams they imposed on me,

Then the whispers and rumors arose, you see.

In the end,

“I am what I chose to be,”

And who I am is my decree.

Regardless of how they view,

Or my failures they construe.

Regardless of mistakes I’ve made,

Or successes that might fade.

I am who I say I am,

With no illusions, no sham.

What I proclaim,

I am the same.

Even if it seems a lie,

Maybe I’m a superman,

Or an angel in disguise.

If that’s who I claim,

Then I am, just the same.

Who I am is mine to decide,

Not for you to deride.

So, therefore, I am.