Stand up for yourself. It’s background music in the back of your head turned off
by the others around you.
And that’s hard to do if you don’t know who you are, when you’re running the endless maze,
what are you running for?
When I was 11 I wanted to be left alone, life was my personal dark whole,
“You only live once.” But I didn’t know what life was.
I was being told accept the identity others would give me.
Well who else would I be.
My dreams were self-conscious and overly apologetic,
or was I my dreams?
I kept dreaming until they wouldn’t come. What now? Where do I turn?
The only light left inside of me was dead.
Would someone change the light bulb? Or was it not that easy?
I hated becoming what I loathed;
the person who was lost when the sign pointed this way.
One day I realized fat kids weren’t designed to climb trees but I wasn’t fat,
why couldn’t I?
I tried to empty myself so I’d feel nothing.
I was called ugly, “We’re all diamonds covered in coal.”
You would have to dig really deep to find me.
She looks like a wrong answer someone tried to erase but couldn’t quite get the job done.
I wished they would have erased me completely.
I started therapy in grade 8. Now I could vent.
But I was a broken down fan that was used to much,
I don’t work anymore.
I had a personality made up of tests and pills. Would I be the druggie now?
Would I lose my future to crime?
I built a cast over our broken heart and signed it myself.
My silent dry sobs were screaming in my head.
I kept walking the tightrope.
Now who am I? The druggie,
the anorexic, the depressed, the suicidal women. But who made me this way? YOU.