These are just words & I am just a man.
Taken at face value we’re exactly the same.
Words need substance, I need context & what defines us always remains the same.
Actions give purpose, purpose gives reason & reasons give rise to certainty.
I am legend under the right light because perception dictates what dreams may come.
Delivering lines as though someone yelled “action”, I’m under the lens like this was my full-time job.
Does what I do really matter in the end?
What if each move was rehearsed & choreographed in my mind’s theater?
I’ve got to be perfect, every interaction is an interview.
Every action is noteworthy, so I can’t leave mistakes on my record because that becomes a part of my history.
History is but a modern myth that we’ve decided as fact.
Will you remember me or just the words which were left behind?
Which will be fiction & which will fact?
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