The Rumored Version

I don't find the need to apologize anymore,
To those who have expressed,
Their unconscious ignorance gone unaddressed.
I address 'that' immediately to let it be known,
I am at the stage and age of my life...
That I can not let what others accept to be,
My reality that others have created...
To afford the learning from my past experiences,
To have anyone believe throughout my life...
All I did was to sleep as others removed my obstacles.
While I sat to supervise as I ate from a bowl,
Of freshly picked cherries.
That might have been the rumored version.
My version?
I made the bowl and picked the cherries,
After I bled from climbing jagged rocks nonstop.
To then chop down the cherry trees,
As I carved out a path to reach the summit.
With wounds left to still heal.
AND prepared I am to reveal them if I am dared.

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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