The True Me
I decided to write to tell you how I feel. You never seem to hear when I speak. I’m
screaming I’m wounded and bruised and no one sees. I’m screaming and no one hears.
Why? Is it that you all have on blinders? I would like to fly and come back home yet I stay
caged. Why? Not because my wings are clipped but I have no armor, no shield. I pain, I feel
like someone has placed a dagger in my soul and they keep turning it. Why? Why? Do I feel
so much pain? Why? Do I suffer? It appears to all that everything is fine. Yet the real me is
slowly dying. The time may run out and my spirit will die if I don’t get a release. I thought all
tests had time periods yet mine seems endless. Why? I cry a river. I want to run but I can’t
feel my feet. I want to fly but I can’t feel my wings. I want to swim but I can’t seem to stay a
float. They say those who don’t appreciate there lives should lose it. I don’t want to lose
mine, yet I can’t seem to appreciate the good things. They are so weighed down and
trampled by the bad. Can I tell someone the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Can I just
be me. Noone knows me or sees the true me they get the unhappy side. The true me would
frolic here frolic there climb the trees and move Mount Everest. I don’t want anyone to do
anything. I just want someone to hear me and understand. Signed, A dying soul
Copyright © Martha Martinez | Year Posted 2009
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