Where’d it come from, this self image of mine?
Was it fate or circumstances or something more sublime?
I wasn’t treated badly. My parents were OK.
Just ordinary folks living day to day.
Where did it come from this view of disrepute?
Was it this? or that? I guess we could dispute.
But when the day is done, I guess it doesn’t really matter.
I am who I am, just a little bit tattered.