Who Am I?
I was afraid of the dark,
I believed what I was told,
and picked the flower that grew on the street,
even if everyone called it a weed.
My mind was T.V static and my heart was on my sleeve,
I stayed in bed and looked at the ceiling:
it was darkness and my fears staring back at me.
The dark is still there,
but the open window brings in some light.
The walls around me are the canvas of my mind,
filled with memories and reminders:
paintings by Vincent scattered everywhere
and Billie’s voice fills the air.
The blood in my veins are racing,
my eyes are tired,
and my mind is wide awake.
I am the same.
I was me when I took my first breath,
I am me ‘till I take my last.
The memories are still with me
waiting for more to be made.
Every me is a piece of who I will be.