I like to think I’m better than I am,
Disguising my covert deficiencies
And posing as a meek and gentle lamb
With no internal tiger to appease,
With nothing but pure generosity,
The soul of selfless kindness, giving care
To those in need with scarce a thought for me,
As far from egotism as despair.
But, truth be told, I shamefully confess,
The god I serve is what makes me feel good;
If that serves you as well, I’m happy, yes,
So long as who comes first is understood.
Is there, I wonder, such a compromise
In both of us, more than we realize?