My broken sense of self

I lived, I live,

Without a sense of self,

It’s been broken

For far too long

Way into childhood

Even beyond to 

My toddler years

I don’t know why 

I don’’t know how

It just is.

My sense of who I am was never 

Even there for a long time.

It was broken, broke, 

And even not even there,

I’ve struggled to even carry on for than 1 year.

Every time I splurge on

Who I am, or a glimpse of what I am,

I am pushed over and 

Bullied to be a different passing version

Of who I can’t be.

It’s so difficult.

I can’t stand being 

Who I am with 

Who don’t seem to appreciate me in anyway.

It’s hurt my sense of self,

It’s defeated me many times,

It’s conquered who I could be,

It’s destroyed my livelihood,

It made me feel I can’t love me or anyone else.

Love does conquer all, 


And sometimes in the moment we 

Are this or we are that,

But we are also distorted in our mind 

Of how to feel or what to think.

I hope to be 

I hope I can 

I am who I am.

Because I am me and I can be,

So stop me from torturing myself

And just live to be.

Even with the people around me.

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