I am

I am young and happy and careless and free.

I am tossed into misery, forced into that coldness for years.

I am rebellious and angry and hungry and lashing out against those chains.

I am beaten and tired and used and sore.

I am loved and warm and comfortable.

I am bored and foolish and reckless.

I am tamed and calm and lonely and tied down,

I am spilling myself.

I am losing myself.

I am lost between the translation of what I find myself to be and what they want me to be.

I am silently working to be what I want to be.

I am selfish for wanting what is better for me, my happiness. Still,

I am content to be who I am not until I can find me again.