Why do you wonder who I might be
why I make the decisions I make
all because its me
living in a world always trying to please
overlooking my needs
all because its me
Making many mistakes ending last or
starting over
all because its me
Not trying to be someone im not
faking to please all others
all because its me
inside I struggle with pain and cry inside
never asked me once how I feel or my I cry
all because its me
my world is not your world I want to be free
live my life to choose my own path
I dont give a damn what society thinks I should be
Im living my life for me
all because its me
this is who I am
But when no one was watching,
She laughed a little loud,
Spoke faster than she should have,
Forgot how to be proud.
With friends, she bent the rules a bit,
Ran barefoot, scraped her knees,
She asked the questions out loud
She never asked on bended knees.
Alone, she filled her notebooks
With poems and songs she couldn’t sing,
Built worlds inside her messy head,
And found a voice in everything.
She wasn’t only silence,
Or the girl they thought they knew;
She held a thousand versions,
And every one was true.
In a rather egotistical
and pathetic attempt
to immortalize myself,
in something I lost,
everything.
And now that I’ve burned
all of my bridges and I’m drowning,
the only thing I have left
to do is work.
And it's not working.
And the only ones
praising my work
are little kids,
the same age I was
when I broke everything.
Lucky me.
I watch them do
the same foolish things,
reaching for pointless dreams,
immortalizing themselves
for no one and nothing.
What I wouldn’t do
to have something,
and what I wouldn’t give
for something
worth saying.
Empty words
look prettier
when they’re
written in blood.
And trust me,
it’s dripping
straight out of
my pen tip
and into my lungs.
I wish that
instead of pneumonia
I had amnesia.
Maybe then,
I could forget about
all of this.
I cannot cry the tears
that rise when my heart breaks.
So I draw them as words.
Each letter,
a silent scream.
I am a mute soul,
my voice sealed in ink.
My pages speak for me.
I am the stillness
between breath and ache,
a quiet presence
that tides through pain—
not broken,
but breaking open.
I am a boat
adrift on a sacred river,
with a wound in my side—
still floating,
still treading water,
afraid,
yet held by unseen hands.
I am the blank page—
so white,
so still—
and every word I write
is the echo of my emptiness
becoming full.
I am not just this ache,
not just this ink.
I am the hush beneath the storm,
the spark that refuses to dim.
I am the silence that speaks.
My own reflections are making me weak,
My own deceptions are making me bleak.
My own honesty is making me a mockery,
My own light is making me dark.
It is taking me over;
It has breached my cover.
It is neither tremendous nor tranquil,
I am consumed by my craving for whimsy.
The tranquility it offers me—
I am way above this buttery flee.
The bliss it comes with—
I am neither in my business nor between its sharp teeth.
I will not urge you to go easy on me,
I will not ask you for a serene salvation,
I will not take your heavenly throne,
And make it my own.
The share meant for me is set aside;
I only want that part.
No one can truly replace anyone,
Yet I am a stranger to who I have become.
Looking in the mirror as I get ready for my day
believing in myself to create the life I desire to live
trusting my intuitive choices to make selfless decisions
grateful for humbleness through the times of humility
appreciating my self worth that is not define with labels
seeing and loving me for me without prideful chatter.
Walking past a large store front window pane
noticing the glimpse of self with a confident smile
happy as can be to be living in the present moment
true bliss racing through my veins pumping my heart
not expecting others to understand my uncanny beauty
grace with truth, integrity, and dignity to be free.
Growth comes suddenly
Birthdays come as scheduled
Find gold in yourself.
Upon the stage of life, fair maidens dance,
Their bodies stage props , they feign romance,
With painted faces, and affected charms,
They play their roles, and bear society's harms.
Forced to conform, to the whims of men,
They wear the mask, and hide their true yen,
Society's rules, they must obey,
And true identities, they must betray.
But underneath the surface, lies a soul,
A flame that flickers, trying to take control,
A spirit that yearns, to break the chains,
And shatter the facade, that society maintains.
The world's expectations, they cannot abide,
Their passions and dreams, they must subside,
In darkness and shadows, they weep and mourn,
Their true selves, forever forlorn.
Oh, fair maidens, let not society's grasp,
Strangle your spirit, and make it gasp,
Rise up, be true, and break the mold,
Your identity, a treasure to behold.
No more pretense, no more disguise,
Unleash the flame, that within you lies,
Embrace your power, let it shine,
And the world shall see, your light divine.
For in the end, it matters not,
What society thinks, or what they taught,
But that you lived, as your truest self,
And in doing so, found true wealth
I am your worst nightmare and I haunt you as you sleep,
Virtual strangers we, but with a bond that runs real deep, Although you do not know me I've been there throughout your life,
And the pain that I inflict on you, it cuts you like a knife,
I am your worst enemy, but still your loyalest friend,
And to come and f*ck up your whole day on me you can depend,
I'm the one who knows you inside out, but the one from whom you hide,,
And the one who did destroy your esteem, confidence and pride,
I'm the one who takes all that you've got til you're stood there with f*ck all,
But even so, I think you know, that I'll catch you when you fall,
Do you know the one of whom I speak, if not please tell me why?
That you do not have the answer to the question, 'Who am I ?'
If the answer still evades you, take a look and you will see,
That the one there in the mirror, looking back at you...its me.
I want to be a strong and gentle lover,
Who grows insatiably lovesick in sweet parting from the sticky sadness of summer.
I want to be a beautiful bluebird,
Who flew north faithful because of some splendid story he heard.
I want to be silly, a fool, daft, a puzzling predicament, absurd!
I want my life and my strife to be displayed and upstirred!
I want to be a better lover to the thoughts that slither through my skull.
But close tender my seeing eye to see my bitter being withstood.
My closed eye cannot pry how I might ever amount to much good.
I would love myself if I could,
But I'm not entirely sure I should.
There's only so much I could ever be,
I close my eyes and I can't see,
So cast my fickle eyes into the empty sea.
I wish I were a lover.
-end-
Self-Identity
The large question mark
points to a wish
a longing to find
our real Identity..
Not the identity we found
in childhood years
which lingers for most..
In years as children
we discover a self
separated and ready
for a life
with promise and color..
When this life sours
when we intuit
another identity
seemingly out of reach
our path of discovery
need be continued..
Teachers and guides
are there for us
to pursue and search
for the Identity
we somehow know
is made of a
peace and happiness
not satisfied by worn
childhood knowing..
A teacher's message
if heard correctly
will point to our
new Identity and
will also caution
against a pedestal
for the teacher
with beliefs to anchor..
Almost home..
Waiting for that
morning resonance...
An insane System by any other name
Should still be considered simply insane
A prison by any other name
Could well be the throne
Of a primitivist's brain
A lifestyle by any other name
Would prefer to be called a "subculture"
A truth by any other name
May well be an early grave
After passing around
A bit of the blame
- Do we really wanna play this same game?
Again and again?
Just for the sake of its colloquial name?
Wait-Wait-Wait!
Don't shoot me yet!
I request a fancy blindfold and a pre-lit cigarette:
I want to look super cool
Without a single regret,
When the firing squad executes me
For being such an absurdly passive threat;
Otherwise,
Honestly,
It will feel like I've squandered
Another golden opportunity...
...And obviously,
I couldn't possibly try to live
After something like this...
I'm a
beautiful
woman
Turn me
inside out
and I will
show you
what I'm
all about
I love
small
children
and
dancing in
there
sentences
is revealing
they give
me a smile
and talk
a mile
and I think
to myself
I really wish
they were on
my speed dial
Because when
you get
their attention
They know
you love them
and they give
so freely
they love
you back
with no
expectations
what a
blessing
to be
noticed
by small
children
with their
babble and
their waves
what's not
to appreciate
they feel
your loving
energy and
reciprocate
I can’t be a human being
All efforts went fruitless.
‘Being Human’ is now
A day dream !
I turned into a stormy wind – a tempest
Destroyed nature, devasted biodiversity
Killed animals brutally.
I transformed into a goblin,
Feared to look at my shadow
Feared to face myself,
Always kept myself inside mask !
I’m a wretch humanity, they say.
Now I’m roaming hesitatingly
In quest of peace, in quest of Utopia !
People say me, ‘Mr Brutus !’
Sorrows and sufferings are now my parents,
Pains, lamenting and humiliations
Are my kiths and Kins,
Woe is my wife,
Myself is non-entity element !
I did not drench myself in moonlight
Did not look at the blue sky
Did not keep my environment clean and green.
Below the boughs of inferiority Complex tree,
I am now shedding ceaseless tear !
I’am a hatred and lost star
A falling comet that still shines
Trying to exist !
Who am I?
Why am I me?
What will I be?
How do I be me?
Where is me?
When is it right to truly be me?
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.