I Am What I Am


I am what I am, but you can't see me from just a glance in my direction. You don't see
the harsh words that entered my ears, went straight to my heart then spread through the
rest of my body like an infection, taking over my mind and pressuring me to look at my
reflection as something I'm not. Back then harsh words were all I really got, so I
had no choice but to conform to what wasn't really me.

The blades flew from their lips and pierced my skin, making incisions so small they
weren't visible to the eyes of those who I kept outside my wall away from the world.The blood poured from my wounds slowly, eventually draining me of any strength I had left to fight. I tried and pushed to pull myself up with all my might, but the light left my eyes and the love leapt from my heart and flew off into the night.

It was what it was and I couldn't find the will nor the way to lift myself up and try. Truth be told the trust I had left in people as a whole turned out to be a lie, and I turned into one of those who question the motives of God and constantly asks, "Why? Why me Lord, what have I done? What did I do that you made me the one to place this upon? If this is how life is I don't wanna live too long, so just take my life now!" Then I would get on my floor and bow down to save my soul & repent my sins, because if The Lord listened then I knew that day my life would end.

I wanted death so bad that I could feel it's cold bony hands with the strength of Hercules wrapped around my throat beginning to squeeze every bit of life out my body bringing me to my knees, and with the bit of strength left I begged The Lord, "please take me away today!" but that day never came. So I began to lose faith and think religion was just a game. I  wanted death so bad I just knew it would come because there's no way God chose me as the one to carry this cross with the crown of my sins pressing into my head. whipping me up a hill, then hanging me, leaving me for dead. I know my own strength and looking how small I am, I can't carry shit.

So I guess I lived to die. I wrapped myself in a shell where I refused to cry, I refused to feel, and every emotion I showed to the world wasn't real. I lost hope in everything that could bring the spark back into my life, and that right there is the reason for that night when I decided to say "fuck it. He doesn't wanna do it? Fine, I'll take matters into my own hands. He refuses to kill me, but guess what, I can."

So I picked up the bottle, bottles, and the blade. popped the pills, killed the bottles and when I felt I was brave, the blade cut my wrists worse than the blades to my skin from their lips. But I was so far gone that I felt no pain from when my skin ripped. I sliced a few more for good measure and watched the blood drip. I could feel the effects, I wrote my note and knew my life was about to slip.

But my angel broke through my wall at the right time. stopping the bleeding and giving me his breath so that I may continue to breathe. He captured the essence of my life, spoke to it, and told it not to leave for he was here and was going to rescue me.
This is all the shit that the world doesn't see, that I kept hidden in fear of being shunned. I am what I am, but you can't see me from just a glance in my direction.


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