This is me

Who am I you ask? Someone you can’t find in the past. Every time you see a house I hope you think of me. Because I am warm, I am the home to those who need me to be. I am sturdy, steady and strong. I am that person you can lean on. In the future you will find me in the hospital, nursing those with nothing to gain. To understand why you must know my biggest pain. For you see my mother is mentally ill, never taking her mandated pills. It is really alright, it makes me who I am. She is the bones to my limbs. The core of my being. The reason why I am breathing. Who am I you ask? I am a fighter. Fighting those who are waiting for me to crumble, becoming her. You keep asking me who is Emily. Well I am spring to a lily. Warm, inviting, ever growing. I am the grass on which you are mowing. I am the sun, wise, high and bright. I have never, in my life, been afraid of a fight. For, truly, I am my own kind of knight. So, yes, this is all who I am. The beginning to my mother’s end. Because I am not her; I am me. Both in my good and bad deeds. This is me.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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