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I Am...

I. I am not concerned with the grey-colored lenses of passerbies,

I am burning,



the sound of a keyboard klick-klacking

I am the snow my skates shave off as I turn

I was stone but now I am water

I have stared my self-shame and known it was me but

I have pressed on


I am the flesh and life is the blade but

all it takes is scarlet for me to bleed myself back.

I regret the wounds, but not the scars,

I do not blame the stars for the dark of night.

If they can’t see either I’ll light their way.


I am not the shadow behind me or the sunburnt skin peeling off,

it was my choice not to wear sunblock and I will bear the consequences I am

too red to care

I am the age I am because I have chosen to live even though it hurts

I have bitten back and borne pain so that the world would know my name.

You can separate the dreamer from the dream but that doesn’t mean they’ll wake up.


I am imperfect indecision

Quiet chaos,

Self-censored for fear.

I hold back howls despite intention.

I crave connection but cannot piece myself into the puzzle.

I am not shaped satisfactorily. I am shaved down.

I strip myself to quiet quirks.

My full self stands forgotten.


I am better because I don’t back down.

Life taught me courage but

I chose to keep it.

I poisoned my past,

I bore the bad.

I am everything if I endeavor to try.

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