Chameleon
In my chameleon life I have many faces,
a different mood for different places.
I grow an attitude for the rat-race centre,
authority becomes my tormentor.
I chaff against the ethic of work,
my rebellious side just goes berserk.
Then, with friends, I'm the "good time" girl.
I throw myself into the social whirl.
Unsheathing my claws of sarcastic remark,
I await the applause of those in the dark.
My family think I'm a regular wife
learning to love, cope with trouble and strife.
They don't know the desires I hide,
the secret sins in which I have no pride.
Lastly there's church and the "royal family",
I show them a side that the others don't see.
A belief in a Saviour who died on a tree,
who's blood and death "availed for me".
My scriptural knowledge is healthy and good.
I pray to the Father as a good Christian should.
But my "brothers and sisters" don't know of my shame,
the fact that I play the chameleon game.
O, what a perfect gem I turned out to be,
A shining example of duplicity!
Just what happens when the week is done?
Why, I just put my "Sunday" face on!
Smiling at friends, glaring at foes
then sporting a fish badge for a bit of a pose!
Silly chameleon, selling myself,
Fearful of being left up on the shelf
of unwanted people this world throws away,
Desperately wanting Someone to say
" I love you as you and you alone.
Leave the disguises and masks you own.
Accept yourself as I accept you.
Now go, be yourself, in all that you do."
I hear Him speak but cling to my masks,
still playing chameleon when somebody asks.
