How will my parents remember me?
This is a question I always ask myself.
Will it be as a happy son or a genius?
Only I can mold myself to someone acceptable.
I have the power to be whoever I want to be.
With no help from the trophies on my shelf.
I can become a clown or something more serious.
The path I choose to take should not be a gamble.
Remember me not as one who was born.
But a son who will never be gone.
How will my friends remember me?
My psyke in books as in sports?
Or one who thought music would live forever.
They sure will have a list to choose from.
I could fit into anyone they will ever see.
For I can do things of all sorts.
Wise, intelligent, learned and clever.
Are all part of my life’s storm.
Remember me not as someone whom you knew.
But as a friend with more than one view.
How will you remember me?
As a guy who made you laugh.
Or one who forgot your birthday?
Both contribute to make this human being.
There are bad memories I would like to flee.
But conquering them made me tough.
Though my body be made of clay.
The material of my soul makes me want to sing.
How I handle myself is not important.
It’s how I handle you that makes the difference.
Mistreating you makes me cruel.
But I can’t hurt myself while you still exist.
You make me try out things that I know I can’t.
When you are around, I seem to lose all sense.
You are the fuel to my heart and body’s duel.
For being a part of you I cannot desist.
Remember me not as a good lover.
But a man who worked magic with his fingers.
Remember me not as a loving father.
But as a dad whose memory lingers.
Remember me not as the love of you life.
But of yourself being my own beloved wife.
The Divine Bandit™ 