“Mirror, mirror on the wall, – Show me my true image after all. Break through the dark, bad splitters, All grittier, bitter litter, – Of attributes thrown, blown, and flown at me. By tides and winds and lies, Of people not wanting to see, The real … – … ‘me’……………….. – ” (my poem). – – – Unless you write your own story, – someone else will write it for you, or might give you a stupid part in his or hers. Unless you paint your own pictures, someone else might put you in the wrong picture. Unless you make your own music and songs, you might have to dance to other peoples’ tunes…. After having a whole life of wrong stories about me, and being put into wrong pictures, and having to move to other peoples’ tunes lacking all care, soul or meaning; …. – I have started to write my own stories, paint my own pictures and write my own songs.