You could call me a poet, yet interpret it as someone who sways with the wind.
You could call me a musician, and say I will "not amount to much in life."
You could call me an artist, and take your words and twist them into some lifeless art, and shove them into a splattered canvas.

I am not my occupation.
I am not a name.

I am a roaring fire of determination, a surging wind in a desert storm.
I am will power, from the strongest of humans, manifested into one single human being.

I will not be defined by minuscule things built by anguish and concern.
I will not be tormented by sleepless nights and pity.
I will not break, nor will I crumble from the pressure of a thousand rocks slipping from under me.

I will fight for the words I write and the souls I attempt to heal, because god knows, writing and healing are the only things I've ever been good at.

So here I am, patiently. Escaping in the mulitude of thoughts you brought upon me.
I must thank you- you're making all the difference.