reforming of a thief

superimposed
upon me the heart rests,
docile,
but my mind is running wild.

reflected i see not one,
two, three, many
kinds of beings,
who feel and speak,
unlike me –

yet i am the one acting out the scene.

i must grasp my own heart!
take charge of the play, 
silent i may be
the script i write,
it must be from within me!

then one day spring forth,
words i spoke myself,
scenes i did without a double,

i find myself trouble,
but necessary,

that i may find me.

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