I have long since forgotten

      how to define myself in ink and pencil shavings.

 

I am a human being

     born of blood    and    sweat    and broken nails -

Call me delicate at your own risk

     I am steel-shorn heart pieces and sweaty palms

I am something individual and unique

     I am arms outstretched,

          arms towards the skys,

               hands on the ground -

Always pushing up and outwards 

               Sometimes you have to dig deeper to hit higher

 

                                      I once tasted the sky

and it reminded me of the freedom I am,

                                      the freedom I hold, in my chest 

There is no test of character in life - 

          I will always have to answer the sum of my soul in two-hundred-and-fifty words total

Who are you?

     What are you?

          What will you become?

I am who I am.

     I am what I am. 

          I will become someone different from who 

          I am today but that day hasn't come just 

          yet and yet I am perfectly content with being

Who I am.