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Vaampyrae Jul 2020
I am who I make myself to be, and nothing else.
The strange voices tell me otherwise,
but I know that they're not real -
they never have.

No one is born liking themselves,
nor is anyone born hating themselves either.

I understand this better now.
I am.
will Jan 2020
whether I try to identify as
a girl or a boy in any way
the only thing consistent
for me to identify with
seems to be lonely
I cut my hair all off it was really fun! Also though people be thinking I'm trans, not a bad thing, but I'm not. Gender is wack and I don't care about it really.
Jamie Lee Nov 2018
I have dyed my hair a lot of colors-

It has been red with anger,
A statement of rage; symbol of fire,
I spent my days with my head in the sink
Putting out my hot-headed thinking
Choking on red water
And my own way of breathing,
When I was tugged on like a false alarm
Meaningless, and loud
A vibrant call for help
And I wore it proud

It has been blue with calm dignity,
When the days were easier,
When happiness was free
I remember how quickly the blue bled to green
That was okay with me,
I loved music and breathing,
And drinking beers on city streets
I was colorful graffiti
It was more of a fleeting feeling
Of matching the sky and the sea
Back when I wanted the world
To look at me


It has been violet in the violent hours,
I remember magenta showers
And tear stained smoke breaks
When the city never slept, always awake
Humming with the traffic on the freeway
In a car with friends and a future before us
Though my skin was a tight blanket-
I felt a smile beneath a purple forest
Where happiness tugged on my cheeks
And I wanted to believe in everything
Everyone believed in me, too

It has been black on the silent days
Somewhere between indecision
And bad taste; a dark fate  
Suffocating beneath a blank sheet
While I was recollecting
The lost and bleak pieces of me
That were almost swallowing me whole
I almost fell into the black hole
I painted myself as
It is much too dark now,
For the colors I so loved
They won’t be coming back

But lately, I returned to my natural state
To see how the brown curls will fall
Like branches on my growing shoulders,
Going back to my roots,
No more drowning myself in bathroom sinks
Looking for myself at the bottom
In colors that could not define me
I am sorry to myself for hiding
Who I am supposed to be
All those colors will always exist
In some place inside of me

But I wonder what my new colors
Will be
jaden May 2018
?
why do i question myself?
i sit on the bus and wonder
who am i? and why am i here?
the answer seems so simple
but my brain is a full trap now.
these simple questions are now caught
and who knows when they'll be free.
Alice Lovey Apr 2018
I've never been good with words
Each thought is from lyrics heard
Losing myself in every piece
Till they all become a part of me
Or am I these things I've never written?
Only ideas that stir from somewhere hidden


Inside my own head, trapped, as my mouth works silently
Trying to speak, violently


I wonder what it's like to be somebody else
How hard is it to think for one's self?
I'm back at this familiar place
Yet nothing ever feels the same
Nothing ever feels the same


Have I just become you?
I've idolized everything you do
Every syllable you sing,
From the sound of your voice to your eyes shining.
My obsession is me
My obsession is me

And I must say,
It feels so good to be so lost.
Alice Lovey Apr 2018
I miss the days
Of innocence
Of confidence
Before the realization I ever needed anyone.
Or maybe I never did,
But you stole it all away.
And you.
And you.

There's nothing to "go back to."
I've only got to starve on this meal plan of
Self-love, self-healing, greening and green.

I miss the days
Where I was something
Felt something.
I was so young.
Do we all die,
Or was it just you?
And you?
And you?
bailey goranson Dec 2017
fire.
a burning flame,
full of wrath and hatred,
holding grudges against people
who loved you the most.

water.
flooding water pouring through streets,
pouring down cheeks,
as you curled yourself into a ball,
reassuring yourself you’d be okay.

air.
a calm, sweet wind,
moved trees and sent the scent
of flowers to your lungs,
calming you as you took
a long, slow breath.

earth
the cool, soft earth
that you dig your nails in,
holding on tighter than imagined,
and you wondered,
how could you lose yourself?
julie Feb 2017
who am I?
I am who?*
when asked such a question,
the first thing one may think of
is the place where they were given life,
as culture is linked to identity.
however, it is not the case,
nor does it involve one's namesake.
instead, it focuses on the person
as a whole
their value and their purpose
for this time being
life involuntarily places us
in positions that lead to questioning
the self.
yet,
it is through such inquiries
that we learn to answer this question.

— The End —