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,
Tho,
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.