Who am I,
But the meaningless purpose, set out
To echoes of their tears— dancing their fires
upon each tongue. Am I wrong wanting not,
to be as equal to parentages?

What does it mean to be free; to be not
Set to be, or set free in a world, only not to be
Anything it recognizes— for the freer person in
this world, are only but the dead. So must I,
sacrifice my life, to then feel alive?

My time each day, is all amalgamation of
Escapeless breath. Oh, isn’t it such a waste to
Be young; for the subtle interest of being ill trained
By the perception of the Owed?

For our youth is truly a debt to those
who train us to be better—
But it’s a lesson not meant to be free,
for when you meet their age, you like them,
feel something is owed.

“Oh, where is the time, I had invested in you,
The wisdom and guidance my
hand laid upon your head?
For from the full of my flesh, I raised you up,
From being a fool. I had decided your
purpose from what I had seen fit,”

Enough then said; to ask of you again,
who am I, who am I then?

Everything happens

to me, nonetheless I am --


the protagonist.

The way he behaves,

imitating me, never --


I would act like that!

They're laughing at me,

it just happens, it really --


really can't be true.

Who am I really?

What makes me...me?

What's true to my being

Versus what people see?


I'm a masked player

Up on the stage.

Open-minded

But set in my ways.


I'm tired, but restless.

Energetic, but fatigued.

I endure all the miles

to cope with my needs.


I live in the mountains.

But I was born by the sea.

Adobes and sand dunes

Are where my spirit flies free.


I molded a mind for mountains

But I've grown a coastal soul.

I find comfort in warmth

But I thrive in the cold.


I'm reserved, but friendly.

Instinctively shy, but kind.

Introverted from the start

But I edited my mind.


I seem to know everyone.

I was taught this was the goal

To be a socialite

And avoid being alone.


I'm a determined dreamer.

I strove to achieve

The expectations of others

But, I've found what I need.


I present as outdoorsy

But I'm a nature girl at heart.

How people may see me

Was wild from the start.


I animate and write.

I love creating art.

To make is my nature

Something I can't depart.


I'm beautiful

But I act pretty.

I'm goofy

But present as witty.


I'm passionate

but stoic.

I'm thoughtful

But overthink it.


I'm a philosopher who's distracted.

That's why I repeat.

I rewrite wisdom

To help guide my feet.


I act confident

But I was born insecure.

It took many years

To uncover my "normal" form.


I'm a willful wanderer.

I'm timid but tough.

I can trek so far

Not knowing what's enough.


I attach to attention.

I tend to crave more

Of the love people give me,

But detach from what's adored.


I want the consistency

Of a level and linear coastline.

But I crave the novelty

Of meandering mountains at times.


I'm a starving artist

Who feeds on motivation.

I'm here to support

But I need to be supported.


I'm creative

Because I struggle.

I'm strong

Because I'm weak.


I'm an explorer of mountain peaks.

Internally, I'm lost and curious.

I explore many things  

That pique my interest.


I'm easily overwhelmed

But I'm an adapter.

I'm disorganized

But I'm a planner.


I'm a mentor

But I could be someone's mentee.

I'm a good listener

But I need someone to hear me.


I'm sensitive and empathetic

But sometimes apathetic.

I'm emotional and kind.

But I often feel numb inside.


I want to be capable

But sometimes, I’m unable.

I'm so often sentimental

Because life is unstable.


I've shown submission

To disguise my difference.

I've circumvented confrontation

To achieve some acceptance.


I was a late bloomer.

But I've pruned and grew flowers,

Flowers grown to hide my thorns.

But I uprooted and found power.


It's hard to collect my thoughts.

But it's easy to collect things.

So much in life changes.

But my things remain the same.


My achievements alone do not define success.

My best effort is my success's foundation

Through my effort alone,

I am a champion.


I dislike change

But change means growth.

If I'm not growing

I'm dying at most.


I'm interesting

Because I'm different.

I'm unique

Because of my interests.


I'm forgetful

But I'm hard to forget.

I'm easily flustered

But I've learned to reset.


I love birds.

Because, I long to be free.

I want to fearlessly fly

To be freely me.


I'm easy to get along with

But once hard to understand.

Now I'm learning myself

To show who I really am.


I'm a wonderful ******.

Neurodivergent from the start.

I am awesomely Autistic.

And I have a good heart.

We’re all called to be sheep
watching the staff
held by the shepherd
led by his laughs.

We’re all called to be sheep
some lambs, some rams
the flock flows together
bearing God’s brand.

We’re all called to be sheep
some to be shepherds
I’m a little of both
both serving and served.

An apology isn't an explanation
It took me until now to get it.
It's upsetting how blind I am
to my own hypocrisy.

I've always wanted acceptance
and felt it was an essential need,
I'd break down each time
My parents couldn't apologize

They'd bring up excuse after excuse,
"It's my belief," "I'm not wrong," "this is my side..."
I hated them for this
But had my own way of doing the same thing.

Does this mean I'm the narcissist?
I'm the selfish, arrogant. awful person
I saw reflecting back at me
Through my family?

These thoughts creep up on me again and again,
They make me want to crawl under a rock,
Become dust and eventually drift away
at least in the wind I could change.

Shame encircles me
It's a cloudy fog that blurs everything,
Making it harder to see reality
I run inside my mind and hide in a dream.

I am a master at romanticizing!
I might even avoid you to interact with a fantasy,
My mind likes to protect me by airbushing things,
even though what I want is to live authentically

Every moment that I'm not present
Is a lost opportunity to change my mindset.
I'm trying to push past my negative thoughts
and ground myself but I feel so stupid.

I want an identity.

These are confessions I can never send.
Because they blatantly won't understand
and that is something I need to get,
They don't care for me enough to accept the ways they hurt me and say sorry.

They are hypocrites,
Because they want me to stay weary.
They want me to always let go and cry alone.
They don't care if around them I'm woeful.

Mom,
You always said I was in the wrong,
Cleaning and chores were our only "bond"
You never chose me unless you could brag.

Dad,
You broke my heart,
You'd catch me when I'd fall
But never stuck up for me in the end.  

Mom chooses to make me a villain,
All I wanted was her acceptance
but she sees me as a sinner who's selfish,
I should put my pain aside and pretend I'm good.

I will be left to wonder forever,
Why my pain doesn't matter
In comparison to my sister,
Why am I less accepted when I'm in pain?

Dad loves me because he sees himself in me.
I look like him, we share a hobby
but growing up I believed that was the only thing he loved about me
Because one moment he'd be there, but would runaway when I needed him most.

Alone, he would listen,
He would say he'd help me
But in front my mom he was different.
Suddenly, what we said in the car was insignificant.

I'm an adult who doesn't know her needs, wants, and likes
Because I spent my life trying to be accepted.
No one taught me how to accept myself,
Or how to know what I need or want.

If someone cared unconditionally,
I clinged to them.
I hoped they'd never leave,
because I never got that from my family.

Now I'm in therapy, crying in every session
That I'm hurt again because of them,
Or hurt by myself because
I don't know who I am.