Tell- a -tale

I pick the olive branch wreaths by the corner mart. And slowly surely I see them on display on door across the town in which I live. Then I come to find eight people with my name my look and clothing and makeup. I begin to become discouraged by them for they could be anyone brighter and shinier than myself.

They could do such more important things and still retain their sensuality and passion.

Without being a copy cat double of me. I don't know how I've achieve my success and failures but I'm very grateful. I know these women are mislead by their greed or a scandals luster. But they are scandalous in their own right so why still insist to be me.

That is something beyond my comprehension. They can move on with their own story. My tale is only for me to tell.